


No Dawn, No Day

by alchemystique



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, Gen, Lieutenant Duckling, Multi, Outlander AU, Slow Build, time-travel fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:30:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemystique/pseuds/alchemystique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Princess Emma finds herself a woman out of time after falling through a portal, and here makes an enemy of Rumplestiltskin, suddenly in the company of pirates, making strange alliances and even stranger friendships as she struggles to return to her home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Spinning (Slipping Out of Time)

**Author's Note:**

> So this started out as an overly long one-shot, but the world became so rich and interesting that I couldn't help myself. This fic is entirely an ode to Captain Swan, but it does begin with Emma in a relationship with Neal and I have an immense appreciation for their love, so fair warning.
> 
> There are only a couple chapters put together now, but my muse feeds off of positive encouragement, so, you know...review. If you want.

**Spinning (Slipping Out Of Time)**

 

The ride into the forest was mostly quiet, and I amused myself with thoughts of my mothers face when she realized the guards had let me slip away from the castle again for most of the journey, the wind snarling my hair as I paced the horse through the trees.

 

It wasn’t that I wasn’t aware of the danger I sometimes put myself in, but sometimes I thought my parents forgot that I was a living, breathing human being, and not just the fabled princess who saved the Enchanted Forest merely by being born. Sometimes the weight was too much of a burden - sometimes I just needed to be Emma, without the titles or the history or the constantly watchful eyes of a whole kingdom afraid the Evil Queen would return to snatch me away and finally steal their happy endings.

 

As we neared my final destination, I pulled up on the reins, letting the horse slow, and then come to a stop at the edge of the forest. I spared a glance for the tokens, all old and rotting or rusting now, that knights had once left in their quest to defeat the beast of the lake, a beast I knew my father had vanquished long ago.

 

Lake Nostos was hardly a lake, anymore. In fact, it hadn’t held a drop of water since before I was born. But it wasn’t scenery I’d gone looking for - everyone knew there was no lake here, anymore, and any who had known of it, once upon a time, avoided the place as though it were cursed. It was solitude I’d needed, and it was something offered very rarely in any other location in the kingdom.

 

Dismounting, I led the horse over to a greener patch in the clearing, and tied the beast to a sapling near the steep incline into the ravine.

 

I took a few moments to compose my thoughts. The ride had been freeing, and the tension I’d felt for most of the day was beginning to ebb away.  There was a strange, quiet buzzing noise interrupting the peace as I neared the edge of the lake, but I ignored it, assuming there was a nest of bees or something similar nearby.

 

I felt a pang of regret at leaving without at least a note - Neal had planned to join my family for dinner, tonight, and I knew he’d be upset to know I’d snuck out again.

 

Neal Cassidy was a strange man, even in my mind. A few years older than myself, I’d been fascinated by his odd speech patterns, and his strange clothing, and we’d made fast friends when my family had taken him in, nearly eight years ago. He’d been wandering the forest, in strange clothing, and had seemed to know at least something of the kingdom, although he’d been wary at first of the royal guard. My mother had taken charge of him, insisting he stay within the castle until she could find some place suitable for him. The stables had eventually been decided upon when it was clear he had no family to return to.

 

In my various training, the stables were one of the few places I felt truly at home, and when I wasn’t being taught I spent many days with Neal, talking and laughing and playing at being a pirate, a thief, a brigand, and sometimes one of the dwarves would have to drag me away as dusk fell, to ready me for a nightly family dinner. We’d fallen in love under the stars, talking of the future as if it were endless, as if neither of us had duty or plans beyond whatever we could dream of.

 

My parents, always supportive of the idea that love was above all the most important thing in life, had encouraged our friendship, and it’s eventual evolution. I could hardly remember a time in my life when I hadn’t loved Neal in some form or another, and when he’d asked for my hand, only a scant few months ago, I’d said yes without hesitation. I loved him, and he loved me, and there was little else to discuss.

 

Of course, my mother was incredibly distressed with the realization that we’d taken to the bridal bed long before vows had been uttered, but thankfully, she’d never told my father. She’d appeared early one morning in my bedchambers only to find Neal curled around me in sleep, and though her lecture had been stern, there had never been any mention of putting a stop to it. I was a woman grown, and though I was a princess I’d never done well with rules, or customs, or - well. Suffice it to say I’d always had a mind of my own.

 

I sighed, thinking of Neal and the disappointment he would feel at taking the journey up to the castle only to find me gone, and, mind made up, turned away from the ravine. I did want to see Neal, even if I was in for a very angry talking to.

 

As I took a step forward, though, I realized belatedly how close to the edge of the ravine I’d been, and felt my footing slip.

 

I let out a cry as I slid, my foot dragging the rest of me backward, and I braced myself for a truly painful landing as the buzzing noises around me grew louder, but the landing never came. Instead I felt a painful tugging, as if the air was being drawn from me, and as I opened my mouth to scream I felt myself plunging into icy waters.

 

* * *

 

 

I gasped another deep breath as I clutched at the shoreline, crawling desperately away from the water, my dress soaked and heavy around me. Whatever I had fallen in to, it was most certainly not the dried out trench of Lake Nostos, but the shoreline and the trees seemed familiar, and even the crests of hills across the gleaming lake were ones I recognized.

 

The sense of foreboding came to me quickly. A portal. It didn’t make any sense though - the magic in Lake Nostos had long been gone, and my own magic certainly wasn’t strong enough to create portals. I’d never even heard of someone with the ability to do such a thing on their own.

 

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I quickly turned back to the task at hand. I was soaked, my dresses heavy and clinging to me, and with a sigh, I realized I’d have to take them off. My parents would be worried sick, once they saw me, traipsing about the forest in nothing but my shift, but there was hardly anything for it now. I wouldn’t be able to move in the heavy fabric, and I’d likely catch a cold in them, regardless. That was, if I could find my parents. I couldn’t be certain, but I had to hope that wherever I’d landed, whoever resided at the castle could help send me back the same way I’d come. The buzzing from earlier, the noise I’d ignored as merely the song of nature, was gone now, and no matter which way I paced in my shift I couldn’t hear it anymore. It was magic, I was sure it was, but it was gone now, and I’d no idea how to conjure it up on my own.

  
With a heavy groan, I set out into the forest, heading in the direction of the castle.


	2. Turns Me To Gold In the Sunlight

**Turns Me To Gold In The Sunlight  
**

 

As I stumbled into the clearing I felt my breath catch in my throat, for standing across the way was a man, grinning at me, the kind of eerie grin I couldn’t help but be a bit frightened of. He seemed...intrigued by me in a way that made my my hair stand on end. The day was not yet cold enough for my still wet hair and damp clothing to make me cold, and yet I felt a chill deep in my bones.

“Well, _hello,_ dearie.”

For all my lack of knowledge about the general population of our kingdom, I realized the position I was in. I’d been foolish not to at least attempt to wring out the outer layers of my dress, and even the thin underthings were hardly suitable for running, or fighting, or anything that might be helpful in this situation. I hadn’t even bothered to bring my sword with me - I’d made this journey so many times without ever meeting a single person that the weight had seemed useless, cumbersome, and likely to be noticed by a guard.

“Cat got your tongue, _Emma_?”

My head shot up, eyes widening in fright. I’d never seen this man before in my life. “How -.”

“Oh, I’ve a knack for names. Yours is a special one, I’ll admit.”

His dress was strange - an almost scaled leather coat over an outlandishly colorful tunic and a dirty, laced cravat, similarly scaled trousers and pointed boots, and his skin almost gleamed in the dim forest light, stretching tight across his bony face.

While I’d been studying him the sounds of the forest had begun to seep back into my awareness, and with a start I realized that I could hear the clash of metal against metal not far off, but as with everything else in the last hour, it didn’t make sense - there was too much noise for any of the small skirmishes that broke out when men at the tavern drank too much mead, and even then, the village was a far ways off from this part of the forest.

The man before me giggled, a strange, childlike noise that set my already frayed nerves on edge, and as he neared, small, jaunty steps crunching leaves on the forest floor, I felt my body tighten as I prepared to run.

“Ah, ah, ah, deary. Leaving so soon? And without a proper introduction, how positively primitive.”

“Leave me. I’ve no quarrel with you. My fiance will be waiting for me.” At the castle nearly slipped from my lips, but I thought it best to keep that to myself, even if this man did know who I was. Regina had been quiet for a long time, now, but there was always a possibility she was plotting another strike against my parents, it was entirely possible this portal was of her doing, and giving this man a prime opening for a ransom wouldn’t be the wisest of decisions.

“ _No_ , I’m afraid not.”

“What -.”

He cut me off again. “I think you’ll find it a bit difficult to find your...fiance, was it? Yes, a bit difficult to locate, here.”

“What ridiculous nonsense are you spewing?”

He leapt from his spot only a few feet away from me, crowding in close, his breath acrid and hot against my face. “ _Spewing_ ,” he repeated mockingly, spittle spraying across my cheeks and nose. I fought hard not to flinch, unwilling to let the man see how terrified I really was. “Spewing, she says, how very unladylike a thing to remark upon.”

Then, at the base of my spine, I felt it. That crackling energy that only I seemed to feel, the prickling of magic - and not my own.

He snaked a hand out, grasping at my arm, and I felt the tingle up through my shoulder at the connection, his own magic a dark, heady thing that nearly froze me in place.

“Oh ho ho, so it’s true then. Little princess has some magic of her own. My my, what _glorious_ news.”

The words gave me renewed urgency, and I felt my magic come forward in a rush, the blast knocking him away from me, while I teetered for a moment with the force of it - a moment too long, as I felt his hand grasp at the shoulder of my dress, nails curling painfully tight into the soft flesh of my arm. Heedless of the fighting nearby, I screamed, kicking out at him.

His grip fell away, but not without the nails tearing into my skin, and I pushed back the pain, legs working hard now to get far, far away from him.

I ran, faster than I could ever remember running, my skirt catching on branches and bramble, rending the fabric and scraping at my legs.

After a third or fourth stumble, I cast about desperately for a cave, or a thick edge of the forest to catch my breath - and finally found it as the footsteps grew nearer. I practically fell into the crag, pressing in close to the rocky crevice, listening carefully for my pursuer.

As his steps edged ever closer to me, I heard his breath coming in short pants. Not daring to look out into the forest, I held still, barely breathing as a twig snapped nearby.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” His voice was awful, high and wild, and even knowing he hadn’t found me I could smell the foul stench of his breath upon my face.

The footsteps tapered away, and the breath I’d been holding left me in a gasp.

The clash of weaponry was still ongoing, it seemed to be nearing, if anything, and at this point I could only hope that there were men of the guard nearby. Who’s guard, I’d no idea, but perhaps, if I was very, very lucky, I’d recognise a sigil.

“Found you!” The clammy hand that grabbed at me yanked, hard, and I went flying to the forest floor as the man cackled over me. “I’ve had enough _games_ , your highness.” The childlike quality to his voice was gone entirely, replaced with a deep coldness.

I spat at him as he leaned down over me, scrambling for purchase against the dewy leaves, and the wicked smile slid from his face.

“Now that was quite rude. Not very royal behavior at all!”

“ _Screw you_!” It was the first thing that came to mind, a phrase Neal peppered into his speech every once in a while, and it was only as I felt the bark of a large redwood press into my back that I saw his face contort in anger.

He took a step toward me before pausing, eyes darting around the trees, and I heard the distinct sound of hooves plodding toward us. He crooked a gnarled finger at me, lips in a grimace, and twisted his head, his words taking on an uncanny songlike quality as he shook his finger back and forth. “Not done with you, dearie.”

And then he vanished.

I turned toward the sound of the horses, readying to call out, when a twig snapped behind me, and I felt a blast of sharp pressure on the back of my head.

 

* * *

 

 

I woke to murmurings, the voices muffled and strange to my ears. My eyes opened slowly, to a crackling fire beside me and a dark forest above me.

I took stock of myself - though my head ached terribly, as the fog cleared my mind sharpened - no permanent damage, then, to my senses.

My hands hung loosely at my sides, and my legs were strangely warm, considering how badly I’d torn my skirts in my struggle earlier. Someone had covered me with something, perhaps to keep me from the chill.

“...was fighting him off, sir. I don’t know much, but I know the look of allies and she was hardly magnanimous. Spat in his face.”

“She’s a spy for the King, then.”

“If that man isn’t working for the King I’ll eat my pants, sir."

A spy?

I sat, far too quickly, if the sudden rush of dizziness was anything to go by. I realized quickly that all I’d had to eat today was a slice of bread before archery practice.

The men behind the murmuring voices turned to look at me as one, a hushed silence descending over the camp, and I leaned back heavily on my elbows.

“I’m not a _spy_.”

“Never seen a lady in these woods _weren’t_ up to something, so ye’ll forgive my disbelief.”

The speaker was a stocky man, broad shouldered and well-built, his face shadowed by the firelight, a thick, braided beard, and his own sharp features. The hair atop his head was pulled loosely into a braid at his neck, and his garb was unfamiliar - it looked almost military, a worn and muddied frock coat with all the trappings of a sailor, but the color was unfamiliar, and it looked as though any insignia had been torn clean off. He leaned closer, and I took in the hooked nose and sunken eyes with some curiosity, and a great helping of fear. No. These men were not of my fathers navy - I’d met every single one, captains and lieutenants all the way down to the cabin boys, and though I hardly knew all their names I would have most assuredly remembered that face.

“I am not a spy!” I repeated, slowly, my head still spinning a bit.

“Regardless. Ye’ve seen us, now. We can hardly leave ye to report back to _whomever_ you serve.”

“I serve no one.” A stupid thing to say, given the situation I found myself in, but true, nonetheless.

The man narrowed his eyes at me.

“We’ll take ye with.” Then, as if that finished the conversation entirely, he cast his eyes across the clearing to a pile of blankets leaned against a tree. “Can ye ride, lieutenant?”

The pile moved on a groan, a mop of dark hair emerging, followed by the halted, jerky motions of a body rising.

“Aye. I’ll not be winning any prizes for my gait, but I can sit a horse.”

“Good. The lass will ride with you."

“I most certainly _will not._ Return me to the castle at once!”

The group faltered, turning again to look at me, and another man, a pudgy little man with a cherub - like face, gave a bark of laughter.

The leader addressed me. “To the castle? What the bloody hell are you on about, wench?”

“I - I’m a maid, in the Queens service. Please, just return me to the castle.”

“A maid eh? In that finery? What’s yer name, maid?”

I was literally clad in nothing but my slip and the kindness of whoever had put a blanket over me, but I supposed, given the state of these men’s dress, the fine silk hemmed with lace could be considered extravagant. “The King and Queen are very generous,” I shot back defiantly. “And my name is Emma. Emma Charming.”

It was the only name I could think of that wouldn’t cause a stir, and hardly a good cover. But it was what my mother liked to call my father, some old joke of theirs that I’d never really listened to - they always got overly sentimental when they told the story and sometimes the whole True Love schtick got to be a bit much for me.

“I dunno where ye think ye are, girl, but there’s no castle ‘round these parts. Nearest one’s a weeks ride, and you’ll find no generosity there. Just so happens it is also exactly the opposite of where we want to go. Ye’ll ride with the lieutenant.”

It was useless to think I could escape this group, and his words had given way to the creeping worry I’d been harboring for the past few hours, since my meeting with the scaled man. There was no castle here, and these men knew the land, but I’d never before seen the uniform the leader wore. Their speech was unfamiliar, reminiscent of the old speech, the kind our elderly scholar sometimes attempted to imitate in his readings to me, the accents unlike those I was used to in my kingdom or the surrounding ones.

The buzzing in my ears and the painful tug at my waist as I’d slipped down the hill at Lake Nostos, emerging from the decidedly not empty lake moments later…

I wasn’t just out of place. I was out of _time_.


	3. A Little Drop of Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma begins her journey north with her captors, and ends up doing something fairly extraordinary with her magic in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some Killian! Enjoy - and review!

**A Little Drop Of Dreams**

 

I was lifted rather forcefully onto the horse ahead of the starkly pale lieutenant, who grunted at me as he took the reins. His chest was broad and hard, and I could feel the wiry muscle beneath his tunic and vest.

 

My stomach growled ominously, again reminding me that other than my bread this morning, I’d yet to eat a thing, and I felt, more than heard the amused chuckle behind me. While we waited for the men to finish, I saw a hand sneak into my vision, fingers curled around a flask. “Drink this. It’ll warm you, at the very least.”

 

I scoffed, waving it off at the strong smell of spirits wafting towards my nose, and heard him sigh behind me.

 

“Gods, you’re a stubborn bitch, aren’t you?” I stiffened at the words, strangely annoyed by his easy dismissal of me, but I’d hardly been gallant in my refusal. With a put upon sigh, I held out my hand, and he gave a pleased noise low in his throat as he handed the flask back towards me.

 

The liquor burned its way down my throat, warming me immediately, and I coughed as I gave it back to him. “God, what the hell is that?”

 

“Rum. Bloody waste of it, too. Didn't even enjoy it, did you?”

 

As the group made a last round of the camp, the leader, a man who’d eventually introduced himself as Edward, gave me a final suspicious glance before mounting his own steed.

 

I pressed down on the mounting panic rising within me as the group took off into the forest, heading north, away from Lake Nostos. These men seemed to think I was a threat to them, and yet they hadn’t bound me, the only concession to my essential kidnapping the obviously injured man at my back.

 

It was possible I could twist out of the the saddle - the horses weren’t yet at a trot, and the fall wouldn’t do more than wind me. If I could find a place to hide, in the dark of the night, it didn’t seem likely they’d wait til daylight to find me.

 

From their low side conversations I’d gleaned that they’d been one half of the fighting I’d heard in the forest, and they seemed to be in a hurry to get away, under the curtain of darkness.

 

If I just twisted, I could get a leg over the neck of the horse, and -

 

“ _Stop squirming_ , milady.”

 

The voice, that thick, rolling cadence that curved comfortably through the night air, came right next to my ear, and I stilled, feeling the heat of my companions legs against my own, the strong muscles guiding the horse easily.

 

I huffed miserably. No. I’d not find escape that easy. As if to prove the point, an arm sealed itself around my waist, and I flinched at the realization that there was no hand attached to it, just a stump covered in dark fabric, some strange rounded contraption affixed at the end. Before I could muster the courage to ask about it, the arm yanked me further back, my shoulders now pressed firmly to his chest, our thighs flush and his arms close on either side of me, and the group urged their horses into a canter.

 

I was impressed with his riding ability. Though it wasn’t impossible to ride one handed, he rode easily, his balance impeccable and the horses gait smooth.

 

We rode that way, silently following the rest, for a few leagues, the forest beginning to thin around us, and I could feel the man behind me fading, his arms loosening their hold around me, his body swaying dangerously with each step.

 

He slipped from the saddle barely a moment later, groaning and then crying out as he hit the ground, and I called out to the rest of the men, pulling on the reins even as I took a flying leap off the horse.

 

In the moonlight shifting through the trees, I would have gotten my first decent look at the man, if I hadn’t been distracted by the bright red spot at his shoulder, the edges of which were already browning.

 

Without a thought for decorum I yanked the tunic aside, getting a good look at his shoulder. The wound was deep - someone had gotten a good jab in, and though the flow of blood had slowed, it had not yet stopped. It had been hours.

 

“You idiots!” I turned toward Edward as he stepped close to me. “He’s going to bleed out if you don’t get this dressed!”

 

“I’m bloody _fine_!”

 

The protest was surprisingly loud for a man who'd just fainted off a horse, but the jerky movement of his torso as he made to push the shirt back up over his shoulder made the color drain from his face.

 

Annoyed, I pressed a hand somewhat spitefully against the skin below his collarbone, and watched him bite back a pained cry.

 

“Killian, can ye make it ‘til sunrise?”

 

“Aye.” He gave me a stubborn glare, beginning to rise, and, officially tired of this day, of these men, of absolute stupidity, I felt myself pressing an open hand into his chest as I leaned over him. He winced at the movement, a low moan digging its way from his chest.

 

“You fucking fool, you’ll be dead well before dawn if you don’t stop the bleeding.”

 

“Hng,” he said usefully, eyeing me with distaste.

 

There was nothing for it. None of these men had bothered with the wound earlier - it wasn’t likely any of them had a hand for medical aid. And I only knew a few basics, nothing that would heal it well enough - I doubted any of them had a spare needle to stitch it up, and it was even less likely they'd give me enough time to finish the job. I’d never be able to staunch the blood flow with natural methods.

 

The men might well run me through if they saw my magic, but it was the only way. I pressed my hand to the wound, closing my eyes, feeling the warm hum of my magic. The man, Killian, groaned as the first tendrils of it slid from my fingers and into his skin, and his face was thrown in stark relief by the flash of light as his skin stitched together, very bright, very _blue_ eyes catching my own.

 

Though there was a rush of silence as the light faded away, none of the men seemed particularly surprised by the magic. But then, at least one of them had to have seen my skirmish earlier - had seen me use the magic against my foe.

 

“Useful trick, that,” I finally heard from my patient, and I realized with no small amount of shock what I’d actually done.

 

My magic had always been a tricky subject. There was no one within the kingdom that my parents had ever trusted to help me control my magic, and it had come to me in bursts of emotion throughout my early years, blasts of anger and shocks of anguish - on one memorable occasion I’d turned my father’s hair blue after he’d banned me from entering the melee at the tender age of eleven, and he’d spent the entirety of the gathering proudly sporting the look with me by his side, until I’d finally, begrudgingly, forgiven him after witnessing a man in the joust bleed out at the fences, after a nasty hit had cracked his opponents lance and the sharp edge had stuck in his neck. After a while I’d succeeding in suppressing it, and I’d taught myself a few helpful tricks along the way, but I’d never really practiced at it. I’d never before healed anything, not even a scrape, and I’d just healed a stab wound, stitching back together muscle and skin as if it were nothing. With barely a thought.

 

I felt a hand curl around my shoulder and glanced up to see Edward eyeing me curiously, staring down at Killian in some amusement. “Well, lad? Do ye suppose now that ye’ve had yer little fainting spell we might get back to our hasty retreat?”

 

Killian shot the man a look that lost most of its fire in the dim light, but nodded his head all the same. “Aye. Feels good as new.” He gave the shoulder a few experimental lifts and twists, and shot me what might have been a grateful smile.

 

“All the same, I’d prefer ye not tax it overmuch ‘til we’ve made it back.”

 

“I’ll try my best, Captain.”

 

 _Captain_. It was the first I’d heard someone use the title, and gave credibility to my earlier theory. He was a sailor - likely a deserter, if the state of his jacket and his wariness of royalty were anything to go by. But he’d been a Captain, before that, and perhaps he was still.

 

I was quickly trundled back up into my leather prison, with Killian fast to return to the horse, but before he followed me up he turned to one of the bundles rolled up along the side of the saddle, releasing something from a belt before hopping up behind me. As I turned my head to ask about it, the answer became quite clear.

 

The blanket was warm across my shoulders, retaining the heat of the steed, and I gave him a grateful look of my own as he kicked a heel, starting us off again. My companion was silent, and the men had grown quiet as well as we moved out of the forest and into the valley beyond it. The moon hung low in the sky, but it cast great dark shadows over our path, and I recognized the hills around us. On my fathers last trip to the kingdom to our North, he’d taken me with him, and pointed out all the places likely for an ambush, proudly reminding me that he’d posted his own men there since the day of his coronation.

 

“There are patrols beyond that ridge,” I told Killian softly, feeling him stiffen in acknowledgement.

 

“And you wish us to take your word at it you’re _not_ a spy?”

 

“If I was, why would I tell you you’re about to be attacked?”

 

“Gain our trust, I suppose.”

 

I huffed, annoyed, and pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “Fine, then. We’ll all die. I would say it was wonderful knowing you, but ...”

 

Killian made a soft sort of whistle, and immediately the captain fell back, coming parallel with us after a moment.

 

“Our _Charming_ new aquaintance believes there are kings men beyond the crest of that hill.”

 

“Oh, does she now?”

 

“ _She_ is right here, thank you, and there have been patrols at that spot for hundreds of years. If there are men looking for you, and they know which way you’ve gone, they’ll be there.”

 

If I squinted, I could make out the glint of metal against the moonlight. There were most assuredly men there, and whatever I had seen Edward must have seen as well. He eyed me carefully. “It’s of interest to me that ye knew of an ambush and only now thought to mention it.”

 

“I’ve told you before, I’m not a spy. I didn’t know we were going this way or I’d have given you earlier warning.”

 

He made a short disregarding noise as he pressed his horse forward, and I watched as they all shifted quietly, hands slowly reaching for weapons as they continued to chat amiably. Then, as Edward pressed his horse forward and straight towards the crest of the ridge, Killian spun his own steed to the side, and suddenly I was being unceremoniously deposited in the bushes next to the trail. “Stay!” was my only indication that it hadn’t been an accident, and then he was off, as well, the sword at his hip gleaming as he unsheathed it and entered the skirmish.

 

After a tense moment of worrying for the mens safety I came to my senses.

 

We’d been riding for, perhaps, two hours, give or take some life-saving magic, and from here I could still navigate my way through the forest. These men, whoever they were, were hardly my problem. If they wanted to spend their time running about the countryside, picking fights with the military of the time, then good luck to them, and good riddance.

 

I took off at a jog back toward the forest, only slowing my run when I was well into the trees, and from there it became more difficult. Running wasn’t an option, not with the undergrowth as thick as it was, and beyond that if anyone did come looking for me they’d hear me from far off. But the forest was still thin, here, and I’d be hard pressed to find a hiding spot in amongst the saplings. I couldn’t take the trail - I’d find a rider at my heels within the hour, and no doubt the men would be fairly displeased that I’d taken a run for it the moment they were distracted.

 

I tapered my pace, mind racing as I tried to remember what had happened at the lake before I’d fallen, but as far as I reached into my memory, I couldn’t recall anything specific that might have triggered a portal.

 

Portals themselves were nothing to be scoffed at. As far as I knew, there had never been a human capable of creating one without the aid of something - on object, a curse, something. I held no such illusions about my own power. I hadn’t made it - it had been there, waiting for someone to stumble upon it. I could only hope it still was.

 

I’d been walking for a good hour when I heard the sound. A horse, slicing through the forest, clearly following some sort of path, although what path I didn’t know. I cast about for any sort of hiding place I could, but it was no use. Whoever was following me would find me. I sank to the forest floor on a groan, crossing my legs as I waited for my captor to finish his search.

 

“Fancy meeting you here, sweetheart.” Killian, then. He looked incredibly vexed to have been the one sent after me.

 

“The forest is _lovely_ , this time of day.”

 

As he dismounted he glared, hard, in my direction, and his stride was steady and sure as he approached. Instead of yanking me up, as I’d expected he might, he held out his hand, suddenly the gentleman. I eyed him with distrust as I reached for it, and he helped me stand. “Your other hand. Let me see it.”

 

“I’m fine.” His raised brow was a terror to behold, and he stood still until I finally placed my right hand, palm up, atop his own, wincing at the movement. It’d snagged on a thorn some time ago, but at the time I’d still been convinced I could actually make a run for it. The cut was no longer bleeding, but it still burned at every movement of my hand. “It’s fine. I can handle it.”

 

“By all means. _Handle_ it.” With his free arm, he made a wide, dramatic sweep as though trying to incite my magic. It wouldn’t work. I’d never been able to use my magic on myself - much to my despair, upon realizing that I couldn’t magic my hair into curls or turn my eyes purple.

 

He rolled his eyes. “Thought not. Let me see it.” I watched him grasp at something around his waist, and he rolled the scarf around his fist before uncorking the flask with his teeth. I felt a catch in my breath as I watched him, and his eyes held mine as he poured a heavy dose of the rum over my hand.

 

“Ah!” The spirits burned against the cut, and Killian didn’t waste time as he passed off the flask to my free hand, spinning the scarf around my palm rather more gently than I would have expected. His gaze stayed steady on mine as he tied the knot off with his teeth, his breath fanning out across my hand, and I tried to ignore the knot in my gut at the sight of him.

 

“Now if you’ve any clever ideas of running off again, I should warn you I’m rather an adept tracker. Perhaps you could try something new. S’called _trust_ , darling.”

 

“I don’t trust kidnappers or deserters, _lieutenant_.”

 

His eyes flashed dangerously at the words, and as quickly as it had come the gentleness left. He snaked his fingers around my elbow and yanked, swinging me in front of him, and I nearly tripped over my own feet in the process, catching myself just in time. I glanced back to find him crowded in behind me, an angry curl to his lip, and took another step. This time I did trip, and would have tumbled straight to the ground were it not for the hand that grasped at my wrist, steadying me.

 

“Graceful as a swan, you are,” he finally muttered as he let my arm drop, and that was that. He didn’t speak another word to me for the rest of the night, not even once we’d met up with the rest of his group, none of them any more injured than they’d been when I’d first woken at their camp.

 

At daybreak, we stopped, the men finding a suitably hidden place atop a hill to rest, and I was finally free from the balmy silence of my erstwhile companion. I watched him as the men set up camp, taking him in in the light of day. The dark hair had been cropped short, similar to the styles that counted as fashionable in my own time, and it curled around his ears, shooting out from his head in every direction as if it had never seen a comb. His face was as handsome as I’d thought it might be, a strong jaw covered in dark stubble and a sharp nose, cheekbones for days, and bright blue eyes. The shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, and he held himself almost defiantly casually, as if even his posture was rebelling against his former navy title.

 

He was a strange being. At once a gentleman and a cad, I couldn’t figure the man, and for some reason that irked me. For some reason I wanted to understand him, to know why he seemed at such odds with himself, to know why he kept to himself among the men, to know why he watched the captain so carefully or why he’d bandaged my hand with such care.

 

He was a puzzle, but the pieces didn’t fit in any way I could find, and above all that frustrated me.

 

I’d lost my blanket in the forest during the course of my ill-fated escape, and the breeze was cold against my skin as the men settled in for a quick respite. The others watched me warily as I found myself a rock to lean against, blocking me from the wind, and I closed my eyes, trying to imagine I was snug in my bed, with Neal curled against me, warm and comfortable. I gave a startled jump as something landed heavily at my feet, and blinked my eyes open, glancing up only to find the already retreating back of Killian, his figure shimmering, almost ghostlike in the sunlight rising over the ridge. The image gave me chills, and I felt a strange pang of loss as I watched him walk away.

 

Shaking my head to free myself of the odd feeling, I glanced down at the parcel at my feet. Tightly wrapped and tied up with a bit of leather was a roll of thick, woolen fabric - a bedroll, probably his own, and I felt the frustration of the night ebb away at the unexpected kindness.

 

I fell asleep to the sounds of the shuffling and muttering of the men around the camp, warmed by the blanket and thoughts of the roguish mystery of a man who I’d been able to heal without so much as a catch in my breath.


	4. Don't Delay, Come With Me Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma continues her journey with the men, finally gets some clothes, and makes a few interesting discoveries about her companions.

**Don’t Delay, Come With Me Now**

 

As it turned out, the men had stolen a few horses from the guards the night before, and I was given my own as we made our way west, now. Though they kept careful watch over me, it was a small but important victory in my book. They didn’t trust me, and they were unwilling to let me leave their company, but perhaps warning them about the patrol had been enough to put them on the path to, at the very least, believing I wasn’t a spy. As we rode Edward took pace beside me, remarking on the healthy vigor in my cheeks, and I bit back a retort about his own poor features, instead thanking him for the opportunity to sleep, and for the rabbit I’d been offered a share of, after Killian came back from a hunt. I did feel better, to be honest, and the rest, however fitful it had been, had helped some.

 

I’d woken from a dream gasping and upset, but the tendrils of the dream had fled with the light, and all I could remember of them was an echoing laugh and a horrible sense of loss.

 

I’d chalked it up to lack of food and left it at that. Whatever I’d been dreaming of, it wasn’t something I thought I’d like to remember.

 

The sun was high in the sky, warm and bright, casting the valleys into vibrant greens and yellows, and I admired the small outcroppings of buttercups dotting the hillsides as Edward spoke next to me. He spoke of his own desertion of the crown, more than a decade before, when he’d been a privateer for King Derek, and I caught bits and pieces of it, but his accent grew stronger the more he talked, and a lot of it was lost to me. Here and there I picked up a thing or two about the current affairs of the kingdom, and tried to file it away, or to assign it to something I’d learned of the history of my land, but though I remembered hearing of Derek (Darach, Edward pronounced it, thick and dark with dislike) I had never enjoyed history, and nothing came to mind of his fate, or the fate of those who had risen against him.

 

It was for the best, really. If I did know, what would I do with that information? Single myself out for more suspicion, most likely, and very little else.

 

It was as we crested a hill, Edward telling a lively tale of his first true pirate haul, that I finally realized where we were headed, the crisp smell of an ocean breeze wafting over the hills. The village below us was one of the few that had stood the test of time, it seemed - the village of Chelsea laid out before us was in many ways similar to the one I knew, if slightly less sprawling. Chelsea was a smaller port town, one that hosted mostly merchant ships in their final landfall before making port at the castle, although likely Chelsea was actually a final destination, in this time.

 

Last I’d visited, sometime before my twelfth birthday, the town had hosted two taverns and an inn, and the shop windows had seemed bright and colorful and full of life, the villagers bustling busily about.

 

As we rode through the main street, I glanced about, but the glazings of this village were small and grimy, and the people walking the winding road looked sickly and frail, at best. There were more than a few shops boarded up, signs beginning to fade, and the thatched roofs of the houses along the end of the row were mostly in a state of disrepair.

 

The tavern, however, sitting at the low point of the trail down to the docks, looked lively enough. Edward tossed a gold coin to an eager stable boy as we all dismounted, shaking ourselves of the dust of the day as we ducked inside for a warm meal.

 

“Captain! How nice of you to stable your _stolen_ horses with me.” A stern looking woman with a rag tossed over one shoulder sent Edward a look that could curdle milk, but Edward just laughed.

 

“Ah, Cordelia, how I've missed your warm smiles and your loving embrace!” Two steps forward and he was in front of her, arms outstretched for the embrace in question, but she merely ‘tsk’ed at him disapprovingly, ducking under his arm to appraise the rest of us.

 

When she caught sight of me her eyes widened, and she turned to the captain once again, a thick arm slicing across the air and catching Edward on the shoulder. “What’s this then, travelling the countryside with women in their underthings! She’s like to catch her death!”

 

“We were taking care of her!”

 

“Ha! Taking care of her. Look at the poor thing, torn old raggedy shift, not even a pair of proper boots for the lass! Oh, you come here darling, Delia will fix you right up.”

 

I was dragged away from the men to Edwards continued protests, and as we turned a corner Delia shot a look over her shoulder at me, grin wide and conspiratorial.

 

“Oh, I do so love to rile that man up.”

 

For the first time since bursting from the waters of Lake Nostos, I felt a genuine smile slice across my face, and muffled a giggle as she winked at me. She led me into a room, looking me over with a critical eye, and finally nodded to herself, turning away. I opened my mouth to at least ask her what the hell I was doing here when she turned back.

 

“It’s not much, but there’s a water bin on the table and a bit of soap to clean yourself, love. I’ll be back before you can spit.”

 

She was not back before I could spit.

 

I did take her up on the washing materials, splashing cool water on my face and along my arms, using the small bar of milk soap under my fingernails. With that done I took a look at the remnants of my shift, despairing at the warm silks and velvets now surely lying, dried and forgotten, at the shores of Lake Nostos. I’d spent more than a day now in nothing but my underclothes, and the white had been covered with layers of dirt, the torn ends fraying miserably about my legs. My hair felt tangled and gnarled beyond recognition, and though I had no looking glass I was sure I looked a fright.

 

My engagement ring still shone bright and clean, the gem turned into my palm some time after I’d woken next to the fire the night before, and I played with it for a moment, twisting it back and forth, my thoughts returning again to Neal and my family. The ring had been my grandmothers, once upon a time, and had been a part of my parents continued ability to find one another no matter how they were kept apart, and I’d cried when Neal presented it to me, worried that perhaps he’d stolen it, and he’d laughed at me for a solid ten minutes before admitting he’d gone to my parents to ask for my hand, and they’d given him the ring as a sign of their approval.

 

The knock on the door startled me from my reverie, and I glanced up to see Cordelia reentering the room, a pile of fabric in her arms. “You look about my youngests size, and she’s plump to bursting with child, won’t have need of this for quite some time. I’ve brought you a brush, as well, and some ribbon to tie that lovely fine hair back. Your young lad seemed a bit concerned I’d taken you up here to snuff ya, so don’t waste too much time before you join the men for a meal, eh?”

 

My young lad? I watched, startled, as she bustled back out the way she’d come, and had no time to call out before she’d shut the door again, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. Killian was the only young lad amongst this group, but why she’d thought…

 

Ah. The ring. I was a young girl in the company of a group of men - even in my time it wasn’t a frequent occurrence - and with the ring around my finger and Killian’s apparent concern for me she’d jumped to the conclusion. Well. It was pointless to correct the mistake. Surely we wouldn’t spend long here.

 

I quickly shed the smock, scrubbing my skin with a bit of water and soap before gratefully redressing in the chemise and thick skirts Cordelia had left for me, slipping my now stockinged feet into the knee high boots she’d laid out. I used my fingers to dig through a few of the nastier knots in my hair, and then brushed out the rest, braiding it over one shoulder in the hopes of keeping it out of the way and slightly less snarled. Satisfied that I at least looked human, again, I followed my path back down the stairs of the tavern to join the men.

 

I’d been up long enough for them to have enjoyed a few mugs of mead a piece, it seemed - they were loud, boisterous, and rowdy already, one of the men, Smee, I thought his name was, leading the group in a jaunty tune about sirens, or sea monsters, or...well, something appropriately raunchy for a group of pirates.

 

I felt the eyes on me before I saw them, and glanced around the bar until I caught Killian’s gaze. He didn’t drop the gaze, taking me in for a moment until I broke the contact, and I took in the barmaid on his lap with no small amount of amusement until I realized that Cordelia was staring the man down angrily - whether it was for distracting her help or for dishonoring me I didn’t know, nor did I care to. He was welcome to her. Perhaps he’d stop his sullen silent treatment if he spent some time between the girls thighs.

 

When I finally glanced back up, he’d turned his attention to the men at the table with him, a sly grin curling on his lips as he drank from his tankard, the barmaid bouncing on his knee as he made some no doubt lewd comment in her ear.

 

Cordelia gave me a sympathetic frown as she slid a plate under my nose, a tankard of ale placed next to it.

 

“Men are rotten creatures, my dear,” she told me as she shot a look across the bar, and I smiled at her. “Doing such a thing in front of your very own eyes.”

 

“It’s alright, Cordelia. He’s not mine to claim.”

 

Her gaze shot to my left hand quickly, then back up at my face. She seemed to be trying to discern me, and I continued to smile softly until she’d given up on it.

 

“All the same, he’s a fine young lad, isn’t he?”

 

I hummed appreciatively, watching as Killian threw back his head in laughter, his neck long and graceful. “It’s a shame he knows it,” I tossed back at her, and Cordelia gave a hearty chuckle as she turned back to the bar.

 

* * *

 

 

The men drank well into the night, laughing and singing and behaving like the ridiculous things they were. Edward had had Cordelia set aside a room for me, and I retired early after having my fill of food and drink. I sat, wide awake and thinking, in the bed, for a long time, trying to make some sort of peace with the predicament I’d found myself in. It was unlikely I’d be able to escape this group of men, and also highly unrealistic to think they would be travelling back south any time soon (or that they’d take me with them, should they need to go). But portals were difficult things, and time portals even worse. There was no precedent for them, really,  and I’d only ever read of them in theory.

 

Lake Nostos was my only hope of ever returning to my family, and every day I was dragged further and further away from it.

 

I ached to feel the press of my fathers lips against my forehead as he jostled my shoulder, to see my mothers bright smile and hear her tinkling laughter. I longed for Neals arms around me, the warm comfortable familiarity of it soothing me. But all I had was this cold room, borrowed clothes and a group of distrustful deserters as my psuedo-captors.

 

I fell asleep eventually, the candle at my bedside burning low already, and was startled awake by the sound of something heavy landing just outside the door.

 

The candle had burned out, and without any other weapon I grasped the candlestick firmly in hand. It was heavier than I’d expected, but I’d been trained in all sorts of weaponry, and the heft of it would work, if I needed it.  

 

I approached the door slowly, wincing as my foot hit a creaky floorboard, and the muted shuffling outside my door paused. Damn it.

 

I swung the door open wide, candlestick held at shoulder height, and felt a moment of confusion when I saw no one standing in wait for me, only to sigh in exasperation as I caught sight of the sprawling body now laid out at my feet. “Bugger,” Killian muttered as he collected himself off the floor, and I pressed a hand to my hip as I looked down at him. He’d been leaning against the door, and my opening it had swept him back into the threshold in a spread of limbs. He didn’t stand, though, instead scooting himself along the wall to lean his head against it.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

He glanced askance at me, lip curving thoughtfully as his eyes lighted on the candlestick in my hand. The light in the corridor was low, and it was hard to catch the expression on his face, but I thought he might be amused. “There’s a garrison of King’s men making terrors of themselves downstairs and only a woman or two to share between them. I thought I’d make myself useful, should you wish to avoid them.”

 

“Why would they come up here?”

 

He seemed to be fighting very hard not to roll his eyes. “To _use_ you, love. Maiden such as yourself, I’m sure you’d be a delightful find.”

 

“I’m hardly a maiden,” I told him, and he frowned at me through the gloom. “But if you’d prefer to use me as your excuse for keeping away from prying eyes, please, continue.” The words struck him with some confusion, and I sighed heavily. “Please, however much Edward may relish his pirate ways, I can spot a man in hiding. Do any of these men even know your real name?”

 

Grunting at me in reply, he settling back against the wall with his hand curled around the hilt of his cutlass. I considered offering him at least a spot inside the door of the room, but as much as he liked to play the brigand, I knew his chivalry would prevent him from agreeing.

 

I closed the door and returned to the bed, curling in under the covers with the candlestick close to me, and despite the raucous laughter drifting up through the floorboards, sleep came much easier to me.

 

______

 

We left before the sun had risen, Killian knocking on my door and offering me some sort of smoked and salted meat I didn’t recognize the taste of as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. We were bustled out the door by a gracious Cordelia and the woman grasped my hand in farewell, shaking off my promise to return her daughters dresses when I could. I thought I might miss the woman, and as we rode off, I clutched gratefully at the cloak she’d given me. I half-listened to the men as we took off up the coast, following the cliffside moors until the sun was high in the sky above us.

 

From there we came upon another village, this one much smaller, and I watched, amused, as Edward haggled with one of the local farmers, eventually coming to an agreement on the price of the horses we’d been riding for the last several days. I made a query as to why the captain was selling the horses, and Smee, the little man with such a large knowledge of sea shanties, grinned at me, pointing down the road.

 

Down at the edge of the winding trail lay the bay, and there was a small dock beyond - hardly enough to hold more than a few corvettes. There was a ship docked there, a beautiful double-masted sloop that caught the light in a pleasing way, as I stared out at it.

 

“Queen Anne’s Revenge,” Smee informed me with no small amount of pride. “Formerly The Concord. One of the Kings finest ships, she was.”

 

Queen Anne. Of course. The history came back to me in a rush. Anne had been Derek’s sister, married off to a neighboring kingdom at the tender age of fourteen. But unlike most arranged marriages of the time, she’d found love with her husband, and seeing the poor leadership and the frankly awful and cruel rule of her brother, she’d managed to convince the man to go to war in an attempt to claim the kingdom for their own.

 

It hadn’t worked. Derek’s men had decimated the opposing troops, and in an attempt to stop the uprising of his own people he’d had his sister kidnapped. He’d locked her away until a treaty could be signed with Anne’s husband, but rather than an accord, when the king arrived to begin talks he was swiftly taken to the gallows and hanged - a further insult, for hanging was a criminals execution, a commoners execution. Derek’s people had risen against him with a fearsome passion, and to make his own stance very clear he’d ordered his own sister to be executed.

 

She’d died with her husbands name on her lips, head sliced clean from the neck, and Derek had lived out his years a veritable dictator, widely despised but feared beyond imagining. No rebellion against him had ever come to fruition, and he’d died late in his fiftieth year, warm and cozy in his bed.

 

I’d yelled at the maester for a good hour after he’d told me the tale, and he’d let me, telling me once I’d exhausted myself that sometimes, the stars just weren’t in the favor of the good, and sometimes, happy endings weren’t what you would expect of them.

 

I’d asked him how this could possibly have a happy ending, and he’d smiled at me, reminding me that Derek had had no heirs, not with his barren queen, and that Anne’s young and handsome son had eventually taken the throne, after years thought dead, with his beautiful wife ruling as an equal at his side, the country flourishing for the first time in a century.

 

“It’s a beautiful ship,” I finally told Smee, as he’d been watching me expectantly. He grinned, wide and carefree, nodding as if that were just what he’d known he would hear.

 

I strolled beside him as we made our way through the village, a few of the men greeting villagers as we trekked closer to the docks. I was pulled into the rush of goodbyes along with the rest, and I observed the men. Though my wayward group of escorts were almost definitely all pirates, they were gallant in their manners and mannerisms - clearly most of them had been a part of His Majesty’s navy. I’d witnessed one of them helping an older woman who’d been struggling with a cart, taking charge of the bulky thing as he distracted her into conversation and accompanying her to her destination at one of the stalls in the square, and another chasing down a young girls bright ribbon, likely worth more than the rest of her clothes combined, handing it back to her with all the care of the gallant knight come to rescue the poor damsel.

 

Another embraced the local baker as an old friend, laughing heartily at something the other man said, and when they’d parted ways I’d watched the baker tearfully accept something that glinted in the sunlight as it was passed from one hand to another.

 

“Thompson’s wife is dying,” came the voice beside me as I darted my gaze away from the exchange guiltily, and I turned to see Killian fall into step beside me. Apparently we were back on speaking terms. “Our bleeding heart Starkey sends the man ten gold doubloons a month for his children. The baker could be the richest man in the town, if he kept it, but he spends what he needs and gives the rest to the local orphanage.”

 

“Why does he send so much? Surely he must know.”

 

“Aye, Starkey knows well enough where his money goes. He’s a wealthy man, for a pirate, I believe he was a lord, years ago. He’s not the sort to begrudge a few lost boys some extra meat for the table.”

 

I bit back a smile, shaking my head, and we continued down the street, Killian narrating the interactions of the men as we went, his voice soft and sure at my side. It felt oddly normal to be here, as if this were something I did often in life, travelling through hamlets and listening to a pirates voice lilt in my ear as he told me their stories. As we came upon the blacksmith a voice called out to us, and I scrutinized the man as he waved Killian over.

 

“Ey, Barrie, who’s your young miss?” he asked as I followed him into the open outcropping at the edge of the shop, and my brows furrowed at the name - Barrie. It must be the one he was going by - I’d never heard anyone call him anything but his first name or ‘lieutenant’. My second thought was to wonder why the whole world seemed to think we were together.

 

“Hm? Oh - Ferrer, this is Miss Emma Charming. She ran afoul of some of the Kings men, to the south. We’ve taken her under our wing.” I snorted at the bald faced lie, and he shot a glare back at me before turning back to the smith. “You’ve finished it, then?”

 

“It was a bit of work, I’ll have you know. Metal workers and smiths and tailors and all manner of craftsmen’s blood went into the damn thing, but it’s done, alright.”

 

“I’ve the gold for it, Ferrer, there’s no need for theatrics.”

 

The smith gave Killian a put upon frown, hand clasped over his heart as though the suggestion that money was his greatest concern offended him, but I could tell his hesitance to reveal this great work of blood and sweat was eased by assurances of payment.

 

He disappeared for a moment before returning, a swatch of fabric bundled in his arms, and laid the parcel out on the table, unfolding it to reveal a rather plain looking iron hook I’d seen used on ships before. It wasn’t until the smith pulled back the last fold that I understood what had taken so much effort to put together. It was a cuff, of sorts, beautifully formed leather adorned with gold studs along the rim of it, and as I took it in I saw the opening along the top, and the strips of a screw hole rolling along inside of it. I glanced between the hook and the cuff, mind making the connection more slowly than I was proud of, feeling strangely as though I should recognise something about this, the pirate with a hook for a hand.

 

I cast the thought away as I watched Killian pay for the contraption and settle it into a satchel at his waist, thanking the blacksmith and offering him good health.

 

We walked in silence, catching up with the rest of the men, and finally, in an attempt to renew the litany of exposition I’d become used to, I nudged at his shoulder. “Barrie?” I asked, brow raised, and he barked out a laugh in response.

 

“It’s a bit more plausible than _Charming_ , darling.” His own brow was accusation enough, and I ignored it entirely as he was diverted by a description of the tailors fat wife, a woman he was terrified of, and I walked comfortably beside him, delighting in his detailed descriptions and his overly dramatic gestures, laughing along with him as we moved through the village until we reached the docks. He grinned at me as we finally came to the edge of the town, holding out an arm for me, and I slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow while he watched me. “Ready to become a pirate, milady?”

 

“That depends. Are _you_ ready for me to become a pirate?”

 

His laughter rang all the way to the ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Just a side note because I think I'm very clever - all the titles used in this story are from song lyrics, and if you're in the mood to listen to the songs it'll give you an idea of where we're headed with this story. I'm still debating when I'll release the track list for this story - it's already gotten long and extensive and full of feels you haven't felt yet, and I've only just hand written the sixth chapter.)


	5. Down This River Every Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma learns the story of Killian's missing hand, and takes on some work aboard the ship.

**Down This River Every Turn**

 

Neal had always been a very private person by nature - though I knew his favorite food, and his abhorrence of pipers, could predict with terrifying accuracy when he’d have a sleepless night plagued by nightmares, I didn’t really know much of his past.

He’d told me once, when we were younger, though, that he’d sailed with a pirate before he met me, a fearsome captain, a liar, a cheat, an absolute terror of a man, and I’d always thought of him as a bit of a pirate, himself.

I’d dreamed up grand adventures on the high seas, the freedom and the joy of a home without boundaries, without _rules_. I’d made up elaborate fantasies of running away with him, of stealing away to the docks and commandeering a ship, of our thrilling life, at the mercy of the wind’s every whim.

Fantasies, however, were all they had ever been.

The reality was a bit different.

Aboard the _Revenge_ , I’d found myself surprised by the order the captain commanded, and more than a little disappointed by the clear hierarchy.

My only real knowledge of the way a ship was run was in the appointments of officers my father presided over, but this was a ship run on the same rules. Edward ran a tight ship.

Underwhelmed by the day to day of the care of the swoop, I’d taken to spending my days curled into the captain’s desk chair, pouring through the dry tomes of history and the infinitely more interesting novels he’d confiscated from Smee during their travels.

My evenings were occupied by the observation of drinking and merriment, the crew singing and dancing and telling bawdy tales, and I counted it a success the night they’d finally stopped shooting me looks of concern upon getting to the more risque parts of their stories.

It had taken a very dramatic rendition of one of Neal’s favorite bits of poetry that had turned a few of the men quite red in the face, _(tiptop said he, don't stop said she, oh no said he), go slow said she)_ *, but once I’d done it they seemed to have no more reservations to repeating their raunchy limericks in my presence.

It was odd, but those nights had quickly become the brighter memories I had, in this time or my own recent past, and despite my _captive_ status I felt a kinship to them. I didn’t trust a single one as far as I could throw them, but I liked them, all the same.

It was such a night as those that I learned the tale of Killian’s missing hand.

He’d gone quite still at the opening of the First Mate’s story, and it wasn’t until we were well into it that I understood why.

The First Mate, a man who went by the moniker Black Murphy, had sailed with Killian and their captain - Killian’s brother Liam - on a journey commissioned by King Derek himself. With the help of a magical sail imbued with the last feathers of a pegasus, they’d sailed off to a mystical realm called _Neverland_ , in search of a plant that could cure any ill - such a thing could end the ogre wars, save the lives of the kingdom’s children, quell the armies of the surrounding kingdoms for fear of unbeatable foes.

Of course, Derek had led them astray. When they finally reached the island it was only to discover that this magical panacea was actually a deadly poison, and Killian and Liam had left the island empty handed, decrying the king and announcing his villainy to the realm.

“Only when the ship landed in our realm, it was met with it’s own royal escort, and the _Jewel_ was boarded by the King’s men, led by the Dark One ‘imself.”

There was a collective recoil at the title, and I felt myself drawn further into the tale, merely by the reactions of the crew.

“Skin gleaming and scaled like a crocodile, teeth rotting from his head, a laugh that could send a grown man crying for ‘is mothers skirts, he was.”

A chill came over me at the words. _This_ was the man I’d fought in the forest, I was sure of it. This villianous beast had known my name. I cast my gaze about, looking for Killian, but he’d disappeared from the group. I dreaded to hear what came next, if the brave Killan _Barrie_ did not wish to hear his own tale.

“The Captain was quick to denounce the King for the coward he was, and that was enough for the Dark One. He declared the Captain and the crew traitors to the realm, and a fierce battle broke out.

“It appeared, for but a moment, we had the upperhand - the King’s men, our old comrades, fell left and right at our attack, but the captain had faced off with the Dark One ‘imself. The beast was merely _toying_ with ‘im, parrying and mocking ‘is footwork as if he weren’t the best swordsman in the navy. And then he grew bored of ‘is game.”

Each of the crewmen were leaning forward in their seats, eager and terrified at the same time ready to hear the tales end.

“‘e reached forward and ‘e _plucked_ the heart right out of the Captain’s chest.”

There was a collective murmur of disgust, and I hoped Killian had well and truly left, for I had a terrible feeling I knew how this story ended.

“The Captain stood ‘is ground even then, and ‘is brother took up the fight, crossing swords with the demon once, twice, thrice. But the Dark One only laughed, a great terrible sound from the bowels of hell itself, and squeezed, and squeezed, until all that was left was ash, and the captain lay at ‘is brothers feet, cold and lifeless, his face contorted in pain.”

I felt as though I might vomit, as he gave a deep long sigh, his palm held high and clenched tight in an obvious mockery of crushing a heart, and from the looks around me I wasn’t alone in my disgust. Finally, timidly, Smee gave a whispered query.

“What...what did he do then?”

Before Black Murphy could answer I saw the shadow of Killian pass into the light before one of the lamps.

“He did _this_.”

He presented his left arm to the crowd, the usual coverings gone from his forearm, the jagged, mottled scar vibrant in the firelight. He looked _furious_ , and I felt a flash of guilt at the realization that this whole time, the crew and I had been listening to the story of his brothers death as if it were a particularly enjoyable ghost story. “And he’ll do far worse to you, should you ever have the displeasure of making an acquaintance with the imp.”

With a final parting glare at the now guilty men, he swung away, feet carrying him quickly towards the helm, and his back glimmered and disappeared into the shadows.

“At the end of it all, we were bound and thrown in the brig of the King’s ship, save Killian, left to die on the _Jewel_ as we sailed away, blasting across the bow as we went, and we thought ‘im surely dead. But a fortnight later we were spared a short drop and a sudden stop by the timely arrival of Killian and our Captain Teach.”

Suddenly tired of the nights stories, I excused myself, wearily making my way back to the small cabin Murphy had given up in respect for my womanly graces. I shed myself of my skirts and cloak, curling into the too-small bed, but I lay awake for more hours than I cared to count, tossing and turning as the night wore on and my thoughts grew darker.

Finally, I gave it up as useless, and curled into my cloak again before making my way up onto the deck. The lamps had been doused, and most of the crew had retired by now - those who were still about were quiet and kept to themselves. I could see the captain at the wheel, eyes cast out to the open sea, and the breeze swept my hair back off my face as I moved to lean against the rail of the ship.

The cold air cleared my mind, and I felt the calm slowly return to me in beats.

I heard, rather than saw, my companion in sleeplessness as he leaned on his elbows beside me.

“Nightmares plaguing you?”

I turned my head to acknowledge him, watching as he tensed at the sudden attention. “I’ve not yet slept,” I told him, and I saw his brow slip up his forehead.

“I’d be _more_ than happy to help warm your _cold_ , lonely bed, milady.” His mouth twisted in amusement, tongue stuck between his teeth for a moment at the words, and I merely rolled my eyes at him. In our few interactions throughout the past few days he’d grown more bold in his flirtations, taunting my sea legs (the lack thereof), jeering lasciviously over some clever innuendo, and he’d eventually cottoned on to my complete lack of shock at his words.

Now he seemed intent on competing with himself to come up with something that would turn my legs to jelly.

“Not my best, I’ll admit,” he finally said, grin fading. “But you’re not very good at playing the distressed maiden.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’ve already informed you I’m _not_ a maiden.”

He hummed at the words, eyes darting to my left hand in curiosity. When he realized I’d caught the movement, he shifted. “You’ve a husband, then? You play with the ring, sometimes, when you’re distressed.”

“No, I - I never married.”

“Betrothed, then.”

I didn’t like the turn of this conversation. I didn’t want him to know about Neal, didn’t want him to question how I’d come to be here, amongst pirates, with a perfectly fine man waiting for me at home.

“Are _you_?” I asked instead, hoping to make him uncomfortable as well, but he merely shrugged his shoulders.

“No woman’s ever held my attention long enough.” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “My brother always used to tell me one day I’d find one I couldn’t bear to be parted from, and then I’d be well and truly buggered. I always thought it was hogwash.”

“Perhaps one day you will.”

His gaze was intent on me as his eyes flitted across my face, absorbing my words. I squirmed under the stare, and was glad when he finally looked away, head shifting up to gaze upon the stars.

“Aye. Perhaps.”

We spoke quietly for some time, small, inconsequential stories of our lives, whispered retellings of myths and tales of the stars, of pirates, of the gods, until I felt myself begin to nod off.

Finally, in the midst of a thrilling tale of horsemanship in his younger years, I closed my eyes, only to open them what felt a moment later to find myself swaying forward dangerously, and Killian’s hand wrapped around my wrist, tugging me back up.

“Let’s get you to bed. I hardly think you’re capable of sleeping like a cow on _solid_ ground, let alone a ship. Not with your grace.”

“I’m exceptionally graceful.”

He chuckled, dropping his hand from my arm, and then bit back a bark of laughter as I shuffled forward for my footing for a moment before falling face first onto the deck.

He was still attempting - and failing miserably - to hide a grin as he held out a hand to help me stand. “My mistake.”

I smacked my own hand into his own, rising with his help and glaring hard. “Not a word, lieutenant.”

His lip twitched up in response, but thankfully he said nothing. Ever the gentleman, he escorted me to the door of my cabin, and I lingered in the threshold, trying to decide if I should thank him for keeping me occupied. “Goodnight,” I finally decided upon.

“Pleasant dreams, _Swan_ ,” he replied on a devilish grin, and I slammed the door in his face.

* * *

 

His clever new nickname caught on like wildfire, a within the first day the rest of the crew, even Captain Teach, had taken to addressing me as Lady Swan. Every time Killian was within earshot I watched him catch my gaze, eyes gleaming with mirth, and be days end I’d taken to the name with mocking grace, pulling out my long disused curtsy to the laughter of the crew.

A week into the journey I’d grown tired of my small cabin and the knowledge books had to offer me, and I’d gone to the captain almost begging for some meaningless, mindless tasks to perform. First he’d sent me to the galley, but Cook had spent less than ten minutes with me before tossing me out the door, and an amused Teach had sent my on my way to learn starcharts and maps with Murphy. That had lasted long enough for him to grow tired of my constant questions, and he’d grown shorter and shorter with me until I’d left the man in a flurry of annoyance.

Then, of course, I’d been relegated to the boatswain.

 _Killian_.

He’d grinned at me as he’d handed me a bucket, and called across the deck to me as I’d nearly dropped the thing on some poor man’s head, slipping across the wet wood slats.

“I want that deck spotless, Lady Swan!”

I spun to glare at him, but the movement swept my feet out from under me, and I stormed off, skirts soaked, to the laughter of the crew.

 _Novels_ it would be, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *poem is an excerpt from _may i feel, said he_ by ee cummings


	6. Rob Us Blind, Kill Us Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma draws a few startling conclusions after a close call with a naval ship.

**Rob Us Blind, Kill Us Fine**

 

A few days later I finally, begrudgingly, returned to the decks, and Killian quietly set me to menial tasks, stifling his own amusement at my ineptitude long enough to actually teach me. He was a patient instructor, surprisingly, eyes kind and voice clear as he explained things, and I was often left to wonder just how old he truly was, when his explanations gave way to the truly joyful way his words curved together, his enthusiasm when I finally caught on to something particularly difficult.

His eyes, usually dark and careful, were open and bright with knowledge and he looked terribly young sometimes, when he was thinking of nothing but nautical knots and the management of the ship.

I found myself truly enjoying these simple tasks, merely by the force of his eagerness.

In the days leading up to our landfall, I was tasked with the unenviable duty of mending the sails.

They hadn’t bothered to tell me where we were headed, but from what small things I’d managed to pick up from my time with Murphy (and more so with Killian, who was an adept navigator as well), we’d been headed northeast along the coastline. I couldn’t say for sure _where_ we were - we’d sailed well beyond the borders of my parents kingdom into territory I knew merely as _Regina’s_ , in my time. Though I’d studied the maps, it was all I knew of anything this far north beyond my own kingdom.

I tried to remember the lay of the land, or any of the forests and fauna, as I stabbed the thick needle through the course fabric, mindful of the overly large sailors palm that kept slipping around on my hand, but I couldn’t come up with much more than creeping trees and dark forest.

From what I’d gleaned of _this_ time, Regina’s spit of land lay somewhere inside the eastern border of _Erin_ , the former Queen Anne’s kingdom.

I wondered at it, for a good long while, unsure why the captain was headed there. It seemed likely, between the name of his ship and his seething hatred of the monarchy to our south, that he had some sort of clemency with the rulers of _Erin_ , so perhaps he merely wanted to stay hidden in a place he knew he’d be safe.

“Not bad, for a novice.”

I watched Killian upend an empty bucket, sitting down on it across from me as he studied my handiwork. “Would have preferred a bit more progress, but it’s my understanding most womenfolk must devote more of their time to _thinking_ , than working.” His expression shimmered with unsuppressed mirth, and I merely made a face at him. He seemed determined to rile me at every turn, and I couldn’t quite figure out why, but I had no intention of giving him what he wanted.

“And men must do exactly the opposite, for I don’t believe they _think_ on anything at all.” His gaze held mine as he smiled, and not for the first time I puzzled over what he saw, when he looked at me, that made him seem so open, so free with his words and smiles and assurances.

“Aye, we’re mostly do-ers.”

The wiggling eyebrow should have made him look silly, but even that gesture looked pleasing on his face. I had to wonder what he’d ever done to be graced with such preternatural charm.

I set my work down in my lap, preparing myself for a few more snappy comments, but Killian’s gaze had shifted worriedly to something over my shoulder, the twist of his lips and the furrow of his brow enough to make me concerned.

“What -.”

Without preamble he stood, catching my elbow and yanking me up as well, and I cast a look behind me as he pulled hard on my arm, trying to propel me forward.

“Captain!” His voice was booming, startling in the calm quiet day, and I felt a frisson of fear tear up my spine.

“Aye, bosun, I see it!”

Off in the distance I could see it too - sails, glimmering in the sunlight, a ship heading straight for us.

“She’s flying no colors, Captain!”

From the crows nest, one of the men called down, his voice strangely calm as the ship seemed to explode in a flurry of motion. I was still being nearly _dragged_ forward, and it wasn’t until we’d reached the entrance to the captain’s entrance to the captain’s quarters that I understood why.

“Oh, _absolutely_ not!”

When Killian turned to look at me he seemed almost frightened, but I’d seen him ride _gleefully_ into battle before, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why a battle at sea might be different.

“Give me a sword. I can fight.”

He gave a dark, disdainful chuckle. “In the event we are boarded, I strongly advise you to _fall_ upon any blade you see - men at sea are rarely known to treat a woman aboard a ship the way you’ve grown accustomed to. You will _not_ fight, you will sit behind this door like a proper little lady and _wait_ until I return for you.”

“You’re _crazy_! You’re just going to lock me up and leave me to -.”

“This is not a _negotiation_ , Swan! Do as you’re bloody well told!.”

I swept out an arm, prepared to hit the man, but I’d broadcast the movement, and he caught my fist as it careened toward his face, stepping in close, into my space, warm breath fanning out across my nose. “If I have to tie you up, I will, love. I don’t make idle threats.”

Instead of responding I reared back, slamming a foot down on his toes, and his face turned an interesting shade of purple as he flung me into the cabin.

I let out a shrill yell as the door swung closed, hiding him from view and drowning out some of the noise of the now frenzied crew, and heard a lock click into place.

Furious, now, I cast about the cabin, eyes lighting on shelves and chests and decorations hanging on the wall. The ship spun wildly, and I was flung halfway across the cabin, straight into a pile of dark clothing. I heard the first cannon, still at a bit of a distance, and glanced about again. My eyes fell on the chest tucked close to the bed and I stood on shaky legs as I felt the ship pick up speed. It wouldn’t help. From what I’d seen we were being chased by a corvette, and the _Revenge_ would be outpaced quickly.

I swung open the lid of the chest, becoming more frantic as I dug through layers and layers of silk. Nothing here.

“Damnit!” With the noise outside I was sure no one heard me, but it felt good to yell a bit, all the same.

I cast aside three separate chests as useless before my eyes lit on something gleaming beneath a pile of _more_ fabric (did the man hoard it?) and I swept them aside with a triumphant bark of laughter as another cannon blast sounded, and the ship rocked dangerously.

Closer, then.

The fabric had been hiding a beautiful blade, the scabbard crafted with delicate care, iron and gold filigree, red gems cast into the metal, and I unsheathed it, feeling surprise wash over me at the way the blade felt in my hand. It had perfect balance, and it felt as if it had been _made_ for me.

I gave it a few experimental swings, watching it slice noiselessly through the air, and turned back to the door with a grin.

The very much _locked_ door. I took a few strides forward, angrily shaking the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.

The cannon blasts had grown uncomfortably close, and I could hear the yells of the men outside. We were about to be boarded.

I gave the handle another pitiful shake, and, in a brilliant move, backed away only to shove my full weight into it from my shoulder. It didn’t budge.

The sounds outside here a haze of yelling and flurried movement, and I gave it another few indignant shoves before kicking out in a fury at the handle.

Nothing.

I sunk to the floor of the cabin in annoyance, thinking up a million clever ways to injure Killian for locking me up like this.

I could be out there, _helping_ , fighting. I’d been trained for this. Lancelot, Gawain, a hundred nights and my mother and father besides had prepared me for this, and I couldn’t just sit back and listen to the sounds of men dying, locked away like a useless trinket. I’d had enough of that for a lifetime.

As I leaned my head against a bended knee I let a fist fall to the crown of my head, feeling the cool metal of the pins Teach had gifted me with to keep my hair out of my face.

_Pins._

Lockpicking had been one of the few skills my parents had never approved of me learning, but Neal had always been quite adept at it, and he’d taught me plenty of the tricks of the trade.

I yanked a few from my hair and got to work.

* * *

 

The door squeaked on it’s hinges as I opened it a crack, and I listened carefully to the sounds of yelling, of blades crossing, trying to get a feel for the fight, but just as I’d readied myself to join the fray I heard a voice, above me at the helm.

“Give us the girl and we’ll let you live.”

“Oh, well, that’s quite the rude thing to say. Killian’s a young lad, but I’m predisposed to believe even his balls have dropped, ey lad?” Teach was with the owner of this new voice, and I could tell from his labored breathing he was crossing blades with the man.

Killian’s voice broke through the noise then, as well.

“I hardly think this is an appropriate time to discuss my manhood, but I’d be more than happy to give everyone a show once they’ve surrendered!”

“The girl!” The first speaker, irritated now, cut through the banter. “You were seen with her by multiple people in the village of Chelsea! The King demands her presence at court immediately.”

I heard a bark of laughter. “The _King_? Ah, well, if the _King_ demands it, who am I to refuse?” A pause, and then another flurry of clashing blades. “Ah. I am me the, still. Answers _no_.”

“Your king demands -.”

“Yer a bit out of yer jurisdiction, laddie. No one this far north is subject to _King Derek_.”

I saw the flurry of movement just beyond the doorway, watched as Killian fought off not one but two of the naval men, the sword in one hand as he used a hook to block and swing with the other. It was the first time I’d seen him wear the contraption, and I was more than a little impressed with his skill.

I was caught admiring his form when I realized that one the men had fallen back, and was now quietly sneaking back around Killian, attempting to find an exposed opening.

 _Damn._ I could imagine the yelling already, but too late to worry about it overmuch now.

Ignoring the voice in the back of my head telling me how very much a _bad_ idea this was, with a gaggle of King Derek’s men aboard for the sole purpose of capturing _me_ , I blazed into the fight, catching the other man’s blade with my own as he swung hard towards Killian’s exposed side, and as he moved to attack me I swung out a fist, clocking him on the side of the head.

He fell with a clatter of dropped weaponry, and I swung around as I felt another blade arc towards me.

I caught the blade close to the hilt, and had a momentary flash of panic before the face before me registered and Killian shot me an absolutely livid look over the edge of his blade.

“Bloody hell woman, are you _mad_?”

We’d attracted the attention of the King’s men, all of whom seemed to realized in that breath what they’d seen, and Killian and I turned as one, back to back, to face them.

“You could have just killed me!”

“Oh, like you’re trying to kill _yourself_ right this moment, you absolute _imbecile_? Believe you me, Swan, when I jab you with my sword, you’ll _feel_ it!”

“Seriously, you’re going with an incessant stream of innuendo while facing your imminent demise?”

I swung my sword up and around against one of the King’s men, keeping up a continuous spin as Killian and I took on a third, and then a fourth opponent.

“Only for you darling! Although I would have preferred,” he grunted behind me, swords clashing in my ears, and I felt the heel of his boot press against mine, one tap, and then a second more insistently. “I would have _preferred_ you stay the hell out of this like you were _told_!”

I took a few steps forward, the both of us edging away from the cabin towards the staircase to the port side of the ship. As metal caught metal and men bellowed around us, we slowly made our way portside, bickering all the way, and I had to hand it to the man - he certainly understood the usefulness of a distraction.

I cut one of the men down as we ascended toward the helm, another tripping over his fellow in the process, and still, Killian kept up at it, only the tap of his heel the the tug of his hook leading us as he howled ridiculous profanities at me to the amusement of a few of the Kings men.

It was like _magic_ , the ease of this. I’d trained to fight in groups before, but I’d never done very well at it - Lancelot often told me I tried to do too much, that I needed to trust the man to my right and the man to my left, but after so many years being told to trust _no one_ it hadn’t really sunk in the way it should. But I was squarely _out_ of my element here, and despite wanting to throttle him for locking me up, weaponless and defenseless, there was a certain fluidity to the way we moved together, his strong arm and my flittering speed, the ease with which he could communicate an attack without even seeing me. It was...exciting, and I could hear the blood rushing in my ears, feel my heart racing, almost _giddy_ even as I blocked another blade headed straight for my throat.

“I think ye’ll find, lieutenant, that there’s not a plethora of open space this far back, and I was rather enjoying being able to _breathe my own breath_. Any reason for the intrusion?”

There were at least six men to our three up at the helm, and Killian had a gleam in his eye that could only mean he had a plan. Outnumbered, overrun, it had better be a damn good plan.

It took me a moment too long to realize what exactly it was, and by then it was far too late for me to have a say in it.

I felt the cool press of the hook against my neck in the second before an arm wrapped around my waist, knocking the blade from my hand, and Killian, pressed in behind me, breath hot on my neck.

The man who’d been fighting Teach made an aborted movement towards me, and I watched the captain move forward, the point of a dagger now pressed to the other mans back.

The fighting died a solid death at the naval officers’ realization that the man - most likely the captain - was now a quite captive one. He stood tall as he watched me, a hand raised to his men in some gesture that must have meant something particular to them. I heard the clatter of steel hitting the deck.

“Seems we have ourselves a _predicament_.” Teach stretched his tongue over the word, digging in each consonant for emphasis. “Ye want the lass. _We_ want the lass. But here’s the stitch - if we kill ‘er, it’s not our heads we have to be thinking of, just our cold, lonely beds. Woman’s bad luck, anyway, aboard a ship. Easier to cut her throat and have done with it.”

As he flicked his gaze over to me I tried to quell the shiver that came over me. The eyes were dark and cold, and in that moment I truly did believe he was ready to kill me, if necessary. If this was all a ploy, it was certainly a well-acted one. But _why_? Why go to all the trouble of taking care of me, of feeding and clothing me, of treating me so respectfully?

“What do you think, Killian?”

The hook slithered carefully down my neck, along my collarbone and _down_ , and his breath fanned out across my neck as he tilted his head toward me. “I rather enjoy her, Captain. Be a shame to bleed her dry when she’s so many more...energetic uses.”

It was a convincing act, but I’d heard Killian’s sexual advances a thousand times, and he’d never been so crude in execution. Even the blade, pressed close to my heart, didn’t feel threatening. I steadied my breath as he curled the hook back up towards my neck, the other curve pressing up into the curl of neck and jaw. “If I say run, _run_.” His lips, pressed almost into my hair, it would be impossible for anyone to see or hear him, and I forced my face to stay neutral as I pressed the heel of my boot back into his toe.

“Perhaps I’ll just have her one last time, then, before we kill her.”

My scream was fairly persuasive as he spun me away from him, the hook catching in the fabric of my skirts and tearing, rending the wool from my waist to my toes as I stumbled forward, falling to my knees before the naval officer, a captain for sure, if the adornments on his frock were right. “Please,” I said, trying to muster a few fake tears, and I saw the mans duty and his own fear warring in his eyes. Did he insight the wrath of these man for trying to prevent them taking me one last time - did he care, when all the king wanted was to capture me for his own?

As I looked up at him, I realized that my knee had pressed into the mans own discarded sword, and moved my hand slowly towards it, ignoring the quick head shake from Teach. I gave another heaving breath.

These men were weaponless, their leader had a dagger to his back - why hadn’t they surrendered? For that matter, why hadn’t Teach just killed them all by now?

It was a test. A test for me, a test to prove myself - did I attempt to escape, did I gut the man where he stood? I knew I’d killed a few men already today, and the thought turned my stomach. I’d never actually killed a man before.

These men would take me south, back in the direction I needed to go, but I had no idea what they wanted from me - only that their King seemed to have some sort of alliance with the Dark One, and a reputation for treating even his own family as nothing more than disposable.

“Please,” I said again through gritted teeth, swinging up with the hilt of the blade, and I brought the butt up hard against the captain’s jaw. He fell to the deck in a heap.

“ _Please_ tell me what the hell is going on!!”

Killian was watching me carefully, and Teach seemed on the verge of something between amusement and utter, terrifying anger, and I tossed the sword to the deck in a huff, watching the crew below us keep careful eye on their captives.

“Gentleman! If you’d like to live to fight another day, I suggest you _leave_ your weapons where they are and climb _quietly_ into that little rowboat over there. And ye tell yer captain, when he wakes, that the king can send his whole bloody _Armada_ after me and he still won’t get what he wants. Killian, the girl.”

I turned to look at the captain only to have Killian lurch forward to wrap his hand around my arm, pulling me towards the stairs again, and rather than fight it I sulked down the stairs with him, glaring hard at him as he held the door to the captains cabin open again, brandishing his hand as if gallantly inviting me inside.

“Smee, guard the door.”

“Seriously?”

“You’ve more than proven yourself incapable of staying put on your own. The captain will be wanting to speak with you.”

Smee took station at the threshold, and I watched as Killian sent me one last, indiscernible look over his shoulder as he walked away. Smee swung the door closed again and took a step to stand in front of it, his shadow stark against the window panes.

* * *

 

It was dark by the time Teach made it back to the cabin, and he stood for quite some time, hands hovering over his desk, in absolute silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was a bellow, coming out lurid and resentful.

“Ye’re a bloody inconvenience, Lady Swan!”

I held my ground, glaring across the cabin at the captain as he paced angrily, muttering to himself all the while.

“Why didn’t you just hand me over then? Would have made your life a whole lot more… convenient.”

He let out an angry bark of laughter. “There’s a few on my crew might have been willing to mutiny for that, and ye know it. But more importantly, the King wanted ye. I’ll do anything in my power to cause that man annoyance.”

I bit back the question of mutiny - I had a fairly decent idea who he meant and that was another problem for another day. “So I’m to be kept captive for your own amusement!”

When he turned, his eyes had the same cruel tilt as they had earlier, and I forced myself not to recoil. His words were calm and quiet, alarmingly so.

“I’ve laid out very careful rules as to the the treatment of ladies aboard this ship ‘specially for you, my dear. Ye really don’t want me to go lax on those rules and find out how most men treat a nameless, penniless woman without a family to defend her.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a reminder, of just how _precarious_ your situation is. The King’s disappointment makes me warm and fuzzy inside, but your recklessness nearly cost me my best sailor, and countless lives besides. I’ve no wish to kill ye, Swan, in point of fact I happen to like ye. But if you continue to run about, endangering my ship and my men, I’ll shed no tears over yer cold, dead body. Yer usefulness has it’s limits.”

His gaze finally dropped, and on a put upon sigh he tossed me the bundle he’d been holding in his arms since he deigned to finally speak to me. I caught it in confusion, eyeing the tied up bundle of fabric.

“If yer to be crossing blades on my ship, ye’ll need the proper accoutrements. Besides, your skirts ripped well beyond repair.”

I gave the skirts in question a look, noticing for the first time the absolutely scandalous amount of skin I was showing. “Thank you,” I said stiffly, annoyed that he’d managed to prove, yet again, how much latitude I had, as a prisoner among pirates.

“Yer dismissed,” he told me with a wave of his hand, and it wasn’t until I’d reached for the door that I heard his voice again.

“Swan.” I paused, my hand hovering just before the door. “Be gentle with the lad.”

I ignored him, jerking the door open a bit more forcefully than I meant to, intent on pretending I hadn’t a clue what he’d been referring to. If the lad in question had any sense of self preservation, he’d leave me alone for a few days.

* * *

 

Killian, it seemed, was even more careless with his life than I was.

When I swung open the door to my cabin, he was pacing the length of it, and he looked up as the door creaked, eyes a little wild, his hair an absolute riot atop his head, as if he’d had a hand running through it for a good while.

“Get out.”

I made my stance very clear, standing aside to let him through the doorway, but once again he was as stubborn as I was.

“Do you have so little regard for your own life you can’t be bothered to listen to _simple_ instructions?”

“Simple - you asshole, do you have any idea - I can fight! I’ve been trained with more weapons than you can name, and I’m actually quite good at them! And you just locked me up, because, what, I’m a woman?”

“No, because _Rumplestiltskin_ has shown an interest in you and that ship flew no colors. The fact you’re a woman never came into it at all.”

“And what if something had happened? I saved your life out there!”

“I had the situation well in hand!”

We’d already devolved to shouting at each other across the length of the small cabin, and I shot him a murderous look. “Is that a joke?”

“You’re _hilarious_. Listen, I don’t care if you were trained by Capoferro himself, all they wanted was you, and you practically threw yourself into their hands!”

“Threw myse- _threw_ myself? If you hadn’t made such a spectacle of me we could have fought the men off and no one would have been the wiser!”

“I was _trying_ to keep you from falling into the hands of the Dark One, and the king besides, but far be it for me to endeavor to save your life, you bloody ingrate.” He made a halted gesture with the hook in my general direction, gaze dark and angry in the candlelight.

“Well at least you managed that better than you managed my dress. Thanks for that, by the way.” I gestured down at the ripped skirts, and his eyes darted to the bared skin before tearing away just as quickly. “Why do you even care?”

His response was so quiet that after yelling at each other I strained to hear him. “You know why.” He turned away from me then, shoulders curled forward, his fist clenched tight against his leg, and I watched the way his body tensed, the way he shuffled as he let out a heavy breath.

We stood in silence for a while, until he finally seemed to recover whatever he’d lost in the admission, and he turned slowly, swivelling on one heel, and pointed out the small parcel lying on the bed. I gave a start as I realized this was the first time he’d actually _been_ in the cabin since I’d taken it over, and between the shuddering confession and the state of my dress I felt my cheeks warm. “I came to bring you this.”

His steps were clipped and rigid as he stepped over to the bed, apparently heedful of the same thing I’d realized, and carefully pulled back the folded fabric to reveal the sword I’d stolen from Teach’s cabin. “Why?”

“You seem bound and determined to make a venture into piracy. If you’re to be fighting on this ship you should at least know how to use it properly.”

“I know how to handle a sword.” I tried to keep the indignant tone out of my voice, but I knew it rang petulant.

He chuckled, but thankfully didn’t pick up the trail of that disaster of a double entendre. “You fight like a ground soldier. Like you’ve a wide field of play. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but its rather cramped on a ship. And your form could use some work.”

“I have incredible form.”

His gaze shifted from the bed, blue eyes taking me in, from the top of my head to my toes, and he coughed as he realized what he’d been doing, head turning towards a spot over my shoulder. “Indeed.”

“I’m sorry.”

He hummed questioningly.

“I’ve spent so long knowing I was the only one I could trust to look out for me. I still don’t -.” I cut myself off, unwilling to continue that train of thought, for I’d realized I _did_ trust Killian, and that...that wasn’t something I’d planned on. I felt almost guilty for it - felt like I’d betrayed Neal, somehow.

“Get some rest, Swan. We make berth in _Erin_ tomorrow, barring any more hostile ships.”

He cut across the cabin, trying his hardest to avoid touching me in the process, and I watched him go. He paused at the door, a deep sigh falling from his lips after a moment of silence. “Thank you. For saving me.”

He was out the door before I could respond, and I sunk to the bed, exhaustion making my limbs heavy. I took just enough time to place the parcel of clothes and the sword down beside the bed before my eyes drifted closed and I sunk into a restless sleep.

 

 

*credit for “When I jab you with my sword[…]” goes to the writers of 2x09, Queen of Hearts


	7. Nights Like This I Become Afraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma meets their host in Erin, and runs afoul of some strange new customs she doesn't quite understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Aoibheann is a Gaelic name, pronounced “eve-een” or, alternately “ee-van” (I’m hardly an expert, but I have heard it pronounced both ways). It means ‘beautiful radiance”. 
> 
> -Granuaile (“graw + nya + wail”) is another name for Grace O’Malley (Gráinne Ní Mháille, in the original Gaelic), who is my very favorite pirate, and something of a folk hero in Irish history. I encourage you to read up on her, because she was a fierce lady.

**Nights Like This I Become Afraid**

 

 

_It had been a long time since we ate dinner in the formal dining hall - we preferred the room just off the kitchens, the small table and the quiet, close atmosphere, where we could talk to each other without having to yell across the table. My dress was tight, crushing the air from my lungs, forcing me to take small, measured bites, but I was starving, and the food tasted like ash in my mouth. I could hear music just beyond the doors of the dining hall, some soft tune that reminded me of my mothers old lullabies, the ones she still hummed wordlessly as she read a book, or brushed my hair._

_“Emma? Emma, are you even listening?”_

_I turned to look up at my mother, who had quirked an inquisitive brow at me across the miles and miles of mahogany between us, and I gave her a guilty smile as I shrugged a shoulder. My father gave me a small wink as he took another bite of his bread._

_“Sorry, I must have missed it.”_

_“We were just talking about your birthday. The ball.”_

_“Oh.” The ball. It was a pointless thing - balls were for celebrations, for merriment, for single women with the world ahead of them, and I… well, I was a woman betrothed to a man I loved, with few friends and even fewer dancing skills._

_“We thought we’d have Neal fitted for a suit to match your dress. Have you decided on a color yet?”_

_I shook my head, watching in confusion as the table seemed to tilt back, expanding, pulling my mother and father away from me. “Emma!” The word echoed as the hall grew wider and wider, EmmaEMMAEMMAemma, and I stood from my chair, trying to breathe, trying to remember how I’d gotten here._

_“Emma!”_

_The clearing was bright and sunny, and the birds were whistling overhead as I fell to the ground beside Neal. Mockingbirds, and this close to the castle they sang the same tune as my mother often sang to them. How had I gotten here?_

_“Em’s, you’re creeping me out. Were you even listening? I think blue.”_

_“What?” I turned to look at him, taking in his soft smile as he lounged across the grass, arms crossed under his head, and I felt my breathing calm as he took a long deep breath._

_“Blue. Your dress. I think it should be blue. Your parents are going a little crazy over this whole color scheme thing - I say we go with blue and watch your parents totally freak out trying to find the right blues to match our eyes.”_

_“Blue, though?”_

_“Well, what color do you want?”_

_“I don’t care about the color. I don’t want to have the stupid thing. I’m already engaged, I’m way past the age where birthdays are a kingdom wide event - for gods sakes, I’m twenty-four years old, and this is - do you hear that?”_

_“Hear what?” He’d closed his eyes, humming softly to himself, and in a rush the sunlight slipped from the clearing behind a cloud, the noise from the birds growing louder, and Neal continued to hum along to the same refrain of the birds. “So, no blue then?” he finally asked, as if they forrest hadn’t erupted in the clattering, chattering **noise** of some bastardization of one of the songs my mother had used to sing me to sleep as a girl. “Emma.”_

_I spun towards the sound, panic rising within me, and the clearing vanished before my eyes, the woods creeping in around me, branches of trees twisting and gnarling over my head. Across the way I could see him, hair blowing in the breeze, his skin gleaming in the low light. “Emma, Emma, Emma. Such a lovely name.”_

_“Leave me alone!”_

_“But I **need** you, dearie. You’re the missing piece to the puzzle!” I spun wildly away from him, twisting to run into the forest, but in a haze of purple smoke he appeared before me again, and as he took one slow step after another, he hummed, low in his throat, and horrible guttural noise, my mothers lullaby drifting from his somewhere deep in his chest. “You’re the one I’ve been waiting for, Emma. Now its time for you to  **go home.** ”_

_The branches of the trees creaked and groaned as they curled towards me, and the forrest grew darker, the shadows wider and heavier around me as the Dark One slipped out of my vision again._

_“Emma!”_

_I twirled into Neal’s arms as he laughed at me, my blue dress swishing about my legs, and as I stumbled he caught me, carefully righting me before I could make a fool of myself in front of half of the kingdom. “Emma, you took those lessons with me, how is it you’re still a miserable dancer?”_

_I reached up to flick his shoulder, smiling as he tugged me in closer to press a kiss into my forehead._

_“I like this song,” he said after a moment, and I smiled into his shoulder as the orchestra played, humming along to the familiar tune. “I like you, too,” he told me, spinning us around, and I curled my hand over his arm as I looked up at him._

_“Why?”_

_“You know why.”_

_I startled out of his grasp, nearly falling only to have a hand reach out to curl around my wrist._

_“Graceful as a swan, you are.” The soft, lilting accent wafted across the air between us as Killian spun me into his arms, the lanterns flickering in the bar as he twirled me around while the band in the corner continued to play._

_“Do you know this song?”_

_“Oh, aye. My mother used to sing it to me as a boy.”_

_He smiled at me, tugging me closer, and I curled into his embrace, feeling the warmth radiating off of him as I tucked my head under his chin. He let out a deep breath, the air from his nose ruffling my hair, and I sighed, sinking into his embrace, into the dance as the music slowed. His fingers ghosted across my arm, raising gooseflesh against my shoulder, and I felt my heart throb in my chest, my face warming as his arm tucked me in closer, pulling me flush against him._

_Deep in his throat he crooned out the refrain of the lullaby, and my eyes drifted closed as we twirled._

_“Emma.”_

_“Hmm.”_

_I cried out as I was ripped from his arms, watching in horrified shock as he was swallowed up whole by a thundering fog, and the world spun around me as I screamed, an awful cackle echoed around the blank nothingness I’d been ripped into._

_“Swan! No!”_

 

I woke with a gasp, blinking into the soft light glimmering beneath the door, the details of whatever dream had startled me awake already slipping away, drifting like tendrils of smoke.

 

The knock on my door startled me from my thoughts, and I shot my head up towards it was a shadow passed before it. “Are ye decent?”

 

“As decent as _you._ ”

 

A sharp crack of laughter echoed beyond the door. “I’ll not enter then. Like as not ye’ve a few serpents to tuck back into your golden locks. Get dressed and report to the helm. We’re on course to reach Erin before sunrise.”

 

I fought an urge to throw something at the door as the shadow of the Captain slithered away, and slowly shook myself awake, the foggy remnants of my dream leaving me. There’d been...dancing? Dancing, and a song, a song I knew, a song I remembered. What had the song been?

 

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, sighing at the state of the clothes Cordelia had been so kind to give me. The skirts were torn irretrievably, and the undergarments had fared little better. I seemed to be losing clothing at a rather alarming rate in this time.

 

I reached for the bundle Teach had given me with a groan, silently praying for a decent pair of trousers as I unfurled the knot that kept it all together.

 

* * *

 

 

The sky was just beginning to pinken as I made my way up to the helm, and as I walked I felt _eternally_ grateful to whomever had worn the breeches practically pasted to my legs before I had - they were snug about my legs, curving along my hips without a secret to spare, and I knew without a doubt that only the use of a previous owner was keeping them from gifting me with a ridiculous, chaffing rash. The blood red shirt fit loosely, and though I’d tried to cover as much as possible to ward off the chill of the morning, the neck gaped wide despite the tightly pulled strings, exposing a fair amount of skin from collarbone to sternum.

 

Edward chuckled from his spot at the wheel as I trudged up the stairs, eyeing me carefully, eyes lingering on my chest longer than I was particularly comfortable with. “Bit cold, are we?”

 

I huffed angrily at the comment, crossing my arms as Teach bit out a heaving laugh.

 

“Ye make a fine pirate, lass.”

 

“And you a poor gentleman.”

 

“Oh, aye. Thankfully for the both of us, I make a much better pirate,” he told me on a wink, all of his ire from the night before seemingly gone. “I’ve Killian for that anyway, I needn’t bother with it.”

 

I kept my thoughts on Killian’s gentle nature to myself as I took in the coastline ahead of us. In the early morning light the cliffs were tinged a brilliant violet, and just beyond the crest of the dark ridge I saw the sea dip into a large bay. Though it was a strain to see it from so far off, the docks were already bursting to life, ivory sails unfurling against the press of the sun as it crested over the horizon, dots of movement along the docks, sailors preparing their ships for whatever journey was ahead of them.

 

Even from this distance I could tell this was a large port, similar to the one where my fathers navy was berthed, and beyond the docks a sprawling town lay nestled beneath a large military fort.

 

My suspicions seemed confirmed - the _Revenge_ had an accord with the kingdom of Erin.

 

“Is there a specific reason you’ve brought me here?”

 

The captain kept his eyes set towards the bay as he made small adjustments to the wheel. “Ye’ll need a bit of prepping before we land.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“There’s a whole gaggle of things ye need to know, but first and foremost, ye don’t use yer magic here. Not in public, not when ye think ye’re alone, not under the cover of darkness tucked behind a locked door. This isn’t a place ye want to be caught healin’ stab wounds with a touch of the hand and the blink of an eye.”

 

“Should I have a quill and parchment handy for this?”

 

He gave me a hard look.

 

“These are superstitious folk, and they don’t take kindly to sorcery.”

 

Something new and different for me. I was a _princess_ in my time, the heir to the throne, with the advantage of fairies known as kind beings to most of the kingdom, but the people of my time had spent most of their lives fearing magic, Regina, Maleficent, they were _dark_ forces, and the kingdom was understandably distrustful of magic. It was widely known that I had it within me, and though most accepted that it was a product of being born of _True Love_ , I hadn’t made many friends in the realm. The Lords and Ladies whispered to their children to be leery of me, and the commonfolk steered clear of me on the rare occasions I saw them. I’d learned to suppress it long before I’d learned to control it.

 

“Alright, I understand. No magic.”

 

Teach laid out the basics for me, customs I would find in Erin, the kind of people and places I should expect, and it became very obvious very quickly that as long as I was here I would be tied to the crew.

 

“I’ve no time to teach ye the intricacies of court here, but ye’ll be expected to show a certain...leadership here.”

 

“Leadership?”

 

“Ye’ll speak for the crew.”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“Yer the only female amongst us, and the Baroness who’s kind of enough to take our motley crew in will look to you to make arrangements.”

 

“What kind of arrangements?”

 

“All of ‘em.”

 

He seemed at ease with the idea itself, if a bit wary of me personally, but it seemed strange to me. My mother and father had been a team, as rulers, and women were hardly seen as weak and useless, but my dealings with the history of our realm had led me to believe it had been largely run by men.

 

“And that little gem ye wear around yer finger will have to go.”

 

“I’m _sorry_?” I clenched my hand into a fist, felt the jewel dig into my palm.

 

“That little bauble will bring about a whole lot of questions ye can’t answer. I’ll supply you with a purse to keep it in, but ye can’t wear it.”

 

He went into no further detail than that, and I bit back a sigh, certain that whatever strange social graces I was expected to adhere to here, I was about to make a fool of myself.

 

* * *

 

 

The house at the top of the hill was...not quite a house, in all honesty. I’d lived in a castle my whole life, so grandeur wasn’t exactly new to me, but it was a thing to admire all the same. It was called Granuaile,according to Teach, after a great great grandmother of the Baroness’. Great white pillars lined the front of the manse, and the windows were large with bright white shutters, beautiful flowers grew in amongst the shrubbery in the gardens. It was encased by tall stone walls, and as we strolled down the cobbled walkway I watched people milling about, a gardener or two trimming the hedges, a maid rushing past with a pile of linens. Before the great door stood two sentries who eyed our party with distaste, but Edward didn’t give them a second glance as he pushed through the entrance as if he owned the place.

 

I walked at his side, and a doorman bowed his head at us as we strode through the antechamber, and I admired the marbled floors and the great arching ceiling as I wondered just who this baroness was.

 

We’d barely made it beyond the doorway before a woman in a resplendant gown of golden yellow brocade greeted us from the top of a wide staircase.

 

“Have you come to steal my gold and jewels, oh fearsome pirate?”

 

Teach chuckled, quirking a brow at her as a few of the crewman came through the doorway, struggling with one of the large chests from Teach’s cabin. “I’ve come to watch ye steal _mine_ Lady Aoibheann.”

 

“Oh, I do so love an audience for my thievery.”

 

As she came down the stairs it was hard not to stare at her. Her fine gown swished about her legs as she took each step with more grace than I could muster in a lifetime, the raven curls of her hair bobbing at the movement. She stood tall, straight backed, her movements fluid and purposeful, her blue eyes taking in her new guests in curious acknowledgement.

 

“And I see you’ve brought yourself an ambassador. How very unlike you.”

 

“She’s a wanted woman, in her own land. I hadn’t the heart to leave her behind.”

 

She gave him a sharp look as she came to stand before us, almost disapproving, and I tried my hardest not to shrink under her stare as she turned towards me. Her gaze was a fearsome thing to behold. It felt as though she was digging into the depths of my soul as she studied me, her eyes searing into my skin as she took me in.

 

“If you’re to dress like a pirate, perhaps a waistcoat might be in order for you.” There was no ill will behind the words, but all the same it felt like she’d found me wanting.

 

“Had a bit of a run in with some rogue sailors. She held her own. Her skirts didn’t fare so well.”

 

“I think the woman can speak for herself, uncle.” It came out almost scolding, and I watched in amused surprise as Teach dipping his head in deference. “Do you have a name?” The eyes flitted back to me, and I set a stubborn tilt to my jaw as I gazed back at her.

 

“Emma. Emma...Swan.”

 

It was a good a name as any - better than Charming, at any rate, but I could see Edward frowning at me out of the corner of my eye.

 

“Curious name,” she told me, the iron focus holding on me as more men clattered into the hallway. “But I suppose I’m the only one among us who isn’t hiding their identity. It’ll do.”

 

Her eyes shifted over my shoulder for a moment, and I fought not to turn as Teach made a wide eyed gesture of displeasure from beside me.

 

“Killian.” I turned to watch Killian take up a spot beside me, bowing his head to our host, and I felt confusion stir in my belly as the baroness shot a startled glance at me before returning to the man.

 

“Lady Aoibheann.”

 

I felt Teach stir in annoyance to my right as Killian skirted closer to the left side of me, and knew without a doubt there was some formality I was missing. Beside me Killian seemed unaware of the looks he was receiving, from the captain or our curious host, but whatever he’d just done, I didn’t think I’d like the answer.

 

“Come. I’ll have the tea started while your rooms are being prepared.” As she turned she shot an indiscernable look to Teach, who seemed to be too busy grinding his teeth together to respond in any fashion, and I heard him grunt in irritation as I followed after Aoibheann with Killian at my elbow.

 

* * *

 

 

The dining hall was just as extravagant as the rest of the mansion, and I glanced around as we were served course after course of rich, heavy food. I’d only been at sea for a few weeks, at most, but the meal was more than I was sure my stomach could handle, so I ate slowly, taking small bites as Aoibheann asked question after question next to me, at my place as the guest of honor.

 

“Tell me. How long have you been with Teach’s crew?”

 

I picked at a dinner roll, trying to find a comfortable position in the too-tight vest I’d been given as dinnerware. “About a month.”

 

Her eyes flickered up to my face as if trying to catch me in a lie, disbelieving, and I noticed her gaze drift to my left, where a few of the crewmen sat, laughing at some bawdy tale one of Aoibheann’s guests was telling. “Hmm. And how do you find yourself faring amongst a bunch of crude pirates?”

 

I had to tread lightly here. For now I was where Teach wanted me, but telling a stranger too much would lead to a lot of questions, and a lot of intrigue I wasn’t prepared for. “It’s been an interesting journey.”

 

“Oh, yes. I’m sure.”

 

There were a whole lot of hidden meanings in her words, inflections in her tone that I didn’t understand, dynamics at play that I was <i>not</i> a part of.

 

“And before that? You speak very well for a common woman. Teach tells me you were a maid in a castle, but that sounds about as truthful as your name.”

 

“I’m not sure it’s any of your business what I was or was not.”

 

She smiled a thin smile at me, her gaze cool and calculating. “Of course. My apologies.” She leaned closer to me on the guise of reaching across for a pastry, her voice low. “You should attempt to be more tactful, Lady Swan, or we’ll all start to think you’ve grown up without the need for it.”

 

I stared at her as she sat back up, her eyes set on her plate as she reached for her cutlery again, but instead of continuing her barrage of questions she turned to her right, coaxing an older gentleman into conversation as dinner carried on with boisterous laughter.

 

* * *

 

 

My rooms were large and ostentatious, a large four poster bed covered in blankets and furs, a wardrobe already filling with bright dresses and, more interestingly, trousers and vests, even a great coat that looked like it would fit me well, a vanity with a functional looking glass, an ornately carved chest at the end of the bed, and bits and baubles all about the room. The heavy grey curtains over the windows were beautifully embroidered in red thread, an intricate, twisting pattern that matched the beds decor, and as I slipped into a rather elaborate looking nightgown I stared around the room wonderingly.

 

I knew sleep would not come easily to me. I couldn’t remember the dream that had woken me that morning, but it sat in the back of my mind, the cold fear and the sense that something had been taken from me. Instead of falling into the bed, knowing I would lay for hours trying to calm my thoughts enough to drift off, I reached into the wardrobe to pull out a dressing gown, pulling it over my shoulders before I went to the door. Perhaps a quiet walk would clear my mind.

 

Most of the lanterns had been doused already, the crewman tucked into the hundreds of rooms to sleep off their overindulgence of spirits, and as I walked the winding hallways the quiet seemed to echo off the walls. I passed an open door to a drawing room, and slipped quietly out of view as I saw one of the maids move across a window. The paintings along the walls were mostly faces of people I knew nothing about, once in a while the monotony broken by a landscape, and I walked for a long while, cataloguing my twists and turns so as to remember how to get back to my rooms.

 

I’d just decided to head back when I heard the raised voices at the end of the hallway, and nearly spun on my heel before I recognized one of them. Teach.

 

Knowing it was a horrible idea, I tiptoed closer to the closed door, flickering firelight glowing underneath it as I approached, straining to hear them until I’d come nearly adjacent with the door.

 

“Are ye out of yer rutting mind, lad? Ye took a spot of honor at her side as if ye belonged there!”

 

“I merely meant to greet Aoibhy. I was hardly trying for political posturing.”

 

I heard Teach click his tongue angrily. “The hell ye did! Ye know the customs here far too well for me to believe a word of that. Ye knew exactly what ye were doing, even if poor Emma didn’t. And she’ll figure it out eventually - Aoibhy will make damn sure of that. Ye’ll have a hell of a time explaining how ye stated yer intentions to the girl before her ladyship and the world. She’s already mired in problems - do ye really want to add this to her plate?”

 

_Intentions_? Intentions to what?

 

“Ye’re dumber than ye look, Killian, and that’s sayin’ a whole lot. Aoibhy can offer ye protection, can offer ye money and a good life. Ye find a way to fix this, and fix it now.”

 

“And if I don’t?” I could hear the ire in his voice, almost a whisper in the dark room.

 

“Tread carefully, Killian. Ye don’t want to see the kind of man I become when I’m crossed.”

 

“You continue to bring that up as though it will change my actions, but I think you need me a hell of a lot more than I need you,  _Captain_.” He spit the word out as if it was distasteful, steps pacing across the room, closer to the door, and I slipped farther into the shadows, casting my eyes about for a quick escape route, in case they left. “Threaten me again and you’ll find yourself a pawn short of a full board.”

 

“And what about Swan, then?”

 

“What  _about_ her?” The pacing stopped, and I held my breath in the absolute silence that followed, what felt like minutes passing as the men in the other room were still and quiet. “Leave her out of this, Teach,” Killian finally said. “I swear to the gods, if you try to use her to manipulate your diabolical plans, I’ll drive my sword through your gut and let you suffer through your long death.” I heard the steps echo across the floor as they neared me, and began to slowly make my way back down the hallway, anxious to return to my rooms again, unwilling to risk being caught out eavesdropping on a very private conversation - even if it did involve me.

 

I was halfway down the corridor when I heard Teach’s voice, clear in the quiet night. “Ye’re a damned fool, Killian.”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

I’d just turned to corner as the handle of the door squeaked, and I took off towards my rooms at a much quicker pace than I’d left, my mind racing again as I tried to reconcile the words with anything I knew of this kingdom, but Teach had apparently not told me nearly as much as I needed to know.

 

The corridors were empty of people, a fact I was very grateful for as I trekked back to my rooms, and only when the door was closed and locked behind me did I spare a moment to breath deep, closing my eyes against the onslaught of yet more new intrigue I had no idea how to handle. I ached for the warmth of my mothers voice, knew she’d have a diplomatic response for all of this, but I was horrible at diplomacy, always had been. Like my father I had a tendency to react, rather than think things through, and though it was something both my parents had always been rather amused by I’d always known it would probably get me into trouble one day.

 

I didn’t have the skillset, or the patience, to tread lightly with all of these foreign traditions.  I had no idea what Killian had done, what it meant, but I knew it had added a whole new layer of difficulty to my dealings with the baroness, and as I curled under the covers and closed my eyes, I knew things were just going to get more complicated.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Emma.”_

_I shifted under the covers, smiling into the bare shoulder under my head, and let my hand slide across the dusting of hair across his chest, biting back a laugh as he shivered at the attention._

_“Do you regret it?”_

_I turned my face up to him, twisting the ring on my finger as he took me in, and I held his gaze for a long moment, before finally leaning up to press my lips to his, my hand curling around his cheek, the cool metal sliding along the hair spotting his jaw._

_“That’s a no, then?” His chuckled drifted through the air as I curled in closer to him, and a sighed as his fingers danced across my back in a soothing rhythm._

_“Do **you** regret it?”_

_“Ask me in the morning.”_

_I dug an elbow playfully into his side, and laughed as his fingertips dug into the soft skin under my ribs, fighting hard not to let my grin tear my face in two. I buried my head in the hollow where his neck met his shoulder, sighing happily as he hummed in merriment._

_“Are you ready, then? For tomorrow?”_

_Some of the carefree lightness left me at the words, but I held tightly to what I could. “What’s tomorrow?” I asked flippantly, ignoring the churning in my stomach as his grip tightened on me._

_“Tomorrow we go home, Emma.”_

_The familiar cackle had me reaching for a weapon, but the dagger was already in my hand - we stood in the clearing before Lake Nostos, the Dark One, Killian and I, thunder and lightening booming overhead, the trees warping and slithering towards us, the laughter echoing louder than the thunder in my mind, and I felt the world tilt and shift as the crackle of magic slipped through the night air._

_“No! Swan!”_

  



End file.
